The Advocate
by keelhaulrose
Summary: Loki has been banished, and must find someone to champion his return. What he finds is Hermione, who is much more than he ever expected. Marvelverse: Post-Thor, HP: Post-Hogwarts EWE. Hermione/Loki.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, all. Some time ago I decided to try out the Hermione Smut exchange on Livejournal (which has many great fics, and which I will be singing praises for for a while, because I'm taking over responsibility). At about the same time, I started watching Marvel movies, and discovered Loki. I have a new pairing to play with, and I'll keep it at that.**

**This fic is nine chapters and totally complete. There's also a sequel in the works, one that more explores Loki's dark side. But as for this fic, you'll be getting a chapter a day until it's all posted.**

**Note: I watch the Marvel movies, but I have yet to really start reading the comics. This fic takes place after the movie Thor, but before the Avengers, and was completed before the new movie came out. As always, my Hermione is mostly from the books, though I borrowed a thing or two from the movies.**

**Warnings: It was for a smut exchange. There's all that entails in here, with some mild language.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or Harry Potter. There is a long list of who does, from Disney to Scholastic and a few dozen people in between, but I'm not on that list.**

**Without further ado...**

Exiled.

Banished.

Again.

Nothing new to see here.

Of all the times he'd been banished, this was the one he thought he deserved the most. If Thor got stripped of his power and banished for starting a war with Johtunheim, it would follow he'd be banished as well for trying to destroy the place. But with the Bifrost destroyed, Odin didn't strip him of his magic once he and Thor had pulled him back onto the ruined bridge. Had he there would be no way to banish his son, and Loki had accepted his punishment and left quickly after being asked. The last thing he needed was to be constantly checking his back, wondering if one of the Warriors Three or Sif was going to get revenge for his indiscretion. Odin could have stripped him of his power right there, but he would remain a shameful reminder of the destruction he had wrought. He could use his power to send him to Midgard himself, but this way his departure drew no attention. Maybe he and Thor were spreading the rumor he had fallen from the bridge. Or, perhaps, his adoptive father actually felt sorry for him, and felt a semi-voluntary banishment to Midgard would appear harsh, but not be as difficult as it could be. At least he wasn't a tree this time.

It seemed as though whenever someone blinked he was banished for some reason or another. And just as quickly he would be back. They needed their God of Mischief to get out of some scrape his hard-headed father or impulsive brother got them into. Or his brother would start an incident, and they'd be summoning Loki back to pull a trick to smooth things over, or assist in the fight. Often it was what he did during his return, which would send him away again.

Midgard was their favorite place to send him. They thought being around the humans would humble him. Watch how they moved through their short lives. See what they do with the few years they were given; their level of innovation, and their growth as a species.

All he saw were masses of non-identical clones, striving to make a name for themselves in their world, but unable to handle it if they did. He watched the leaders who looked to either the collective or, more often, those with most wealth for guidance.

Weak.

Spineless.

Pathetic.

Not unlike the cockroaches that plagued their cities, massing in the dark, trying desperately to reproduce and gain what they need, then scurrying when something bigger came along.

There was no power. Even those with Magic couldn't agree on much of anything other than living in hiding. He'd have them in his hand within a week if he desired. But what use would they be? A play for power would do nothing but bring his father and brother down to wrest it from him, and the humans would be no help against gods.

Though he could probably decimate the population enough it would set them back a few hundred years. His chances of going back to Asgard would be negligible if he did, but he had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't expecting him back.

As he was sent into exile, he was told there was only one way he would be allowed back. He needed a human, just a single human, to advocate for his return. It seemed simple enough. How hard could it be to find a human who would be easily manipulated into saying whatever he desired? He had remembered smirking at this, convinced he would return within hours, with someone who would say whatever he wanted them to. But then his father made it a bit more complicated.

The human had to know his past. Know his deeds and still find him worthy of salvation. Still, not difficult. Humans were quick to forgive even the worst among them if they atoned for their sins, or at least convinced someone they had.

But then this person would have to advocate for him in Asgard; while he was on Earth, being babysat by his brother, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three. And his advocate had to prove they were sincere. That part was potentially problematic. How many people would be able to with-stand questioning by gods, with no one there to support them? What kind of human had the fortitude to complete such a task without him giving them a little help? And how would they prove they were sincere? Any kind of warning would make it seem as he were coaching them. The task seemed impossible, or it would at least keep him away for years.

He had gone to a place where no one would notice a little mischief. Where he could blend into a crowd of those who thought they were noticing everyone and everything around them, but who were too blinded by the splendor of everything to actually notice what is truly around them. Las Vegas. Where thieves are rewarded with tall buildings and flashing lights, the common man could feel a king, and vices were not just encouraged, they were openly peddled with neon signs.

He had already made a pest of himself. A lesser man would have been banned from every casino along the strip out of suspicion that he had been doing something wrong, though nothing could be traced to him, and most of the time he didn't appear as himself. Any of these mortals would be happy living the life he was living: luxurious accommodations, the freedom to move without the threat of obligations hanging over his head, having his every need catered to.

Complete freedom.

And yet the challenge was maddening. So he searched, everywhere it seemed, for the type of person who would hear his past but not flee, and who had the courage to stand up for him in front of the gods. Somehow he was sure Las Vegas would not provide him such a person. But he was not ready to move on just yet.

It was during an evening wandering that he came across a rather peculiar feeling. It was a powerful magical signature, or perhaps many, drawing him into what looked to be an abandoned strip mall on the outskirts of town. As he watched, two people appeared from around the back of the building and hurried into a boarded up electronics store. Curious, he followed suit.

"Clever," he murmured with an appreciative smile as he entered, for it wasn't into a decrepit building he had stepped, but a rather lavish convention hall. A long hallway led to three different rooms, but only one seemed to be in use. As he approached, he saw a large sign, advertizing a symposium on vampire rights. Keynote speaker: Dr. Hermione Granger, Head of the House-Elf Rights Commission, Author of the Werewolf Accommodation Act, Order of Merlin First Class.

"She just started speaking," a plump witch whispered as she thrust a program into his hand. "Go on in."

"Thank you," he replied softly, tipping his head and opening the door just enough to slide in. He sat in an isolated seat in the back and listened as Dr. Hermione Granger carefully went over the shared history of magical beings and vampires, then slowly laid the case out for why wizards should let the blood-sucking death-bringers be, and even grant them the right to exist as they were. The more he listened, the wider the smile on his lips. As questions were hurled at her, and replies expertly parried back, he became more and more convinced that Dr. Hermione Granger would be just the type of woman to help him with his conundrum. The girl couldn't be more than mid to late twenties, wearing a sensible blue-colored dress, minimal makeup, a single piece of jewelry, with her hair done up in a no-fuss bun. She was attractive without trying, but she didn't want to be viewed as attractive. She wanted to be viewed for her intelligence, which he quickly found more captivating than her looks.

Two hours after he sat, the session was over, and Dr. Granger was escorted to a small table to sign copies of her autobiography. He bought a copy from a separate table and sat nearby, flipping through it. Dr. Granger was more impressive than the simple description under her picture would lead one to believe. A war heroine and a celebrity, she seemed to take up the fight for any disadvantaged, misunderstood creature that came across her path. If he carefully played his cards, perhaps she'd be willing to take up the cause of the God of Mischief.

Dr. Granger was suddenly surrounded by a small group of people who seemed to know her very well, and felt no qualms about complaining to her the moment the line slowed.

"Come on, Hermione, it's Vegas!" a tall, gangly redhead grumbled.

"I'm contracted to stay here for another ten minutes," she replied shortly, checking her watch. "And then I really should get back to my hotel room in case that vampire calls me back..."

"Let him leave a message," a raven-haired boy complained. "Come on, Hermione, you're allowed to have a little fun."

"I hardly find feeding my hard-earned money into loud machines fun."

"There's other things to do..."

"A fool and his money, Harry."

"You need to loosen up," a redheaded girl cut in. "You spend way too much time advocating all these causes. Do vampires really need your help?"

"We have units of our ministries dedicated to hunting them down and exterminating them. Yes, I think they could use someone on their side."

"Seriously? Fuck the vampires. You haven't had time for anything else since you listened to Sanguini's sob story."

"You have what you think are things worthy of your time, and I have mine. I work to protect creatures, who were having difficulties in their lives, you toss a ball through a hoop."

"You don't have to be a bitch about it," she snapped.

"I'm not. I told you guys that this was a business trip for me. I didn't come here to gamble, or go to shows, or drink until I'm pissed every night. You invited yourselves along. I do not need to provide you with companionship nor entertainment."

"You know, Hermione, you haven't done a damn thing for yourself in a long time," Ron pointed out. "When's the last time you went out for a night on the town?"

"Just because I don't enjoy going to Quidditch games or the pubs every weekend doesn't mean I don't have fun with my own pursuits."

"When's the last time you had a boyfriend? A serious one, not just a casual date or two?" the girl asked.

"I feel no need to be defined by a romantic relationship," Hermione replied hotly. "You guys should go on ahead. I'll see you later," she added insincerely.

"Whatever. Have fun with the blood-suckers," Ron grumbled. He and the girl walked off. Harry stayed a moment, but then turned and followed them.

He waited a few more minutes as some stragglers came by to get books signed and exchange a few words with Hermione, none noticing how upset she was. When she had a moment alone she conjured a handkerchief with her wand and dabbed at the corner of her eye. It was time to make his move.

"That was an enlightening talk," he said smoothly as he slid the book across the table towards her.

"Oh!" she was surprised to see someone there and hastily stashed the handkerchief. "I'm... sorry. Thank you," she stammered.

"I can honestly say I didn't give the matter much thought, but you put things so eloquently that it gave me much to ponder," he flashed her a charming smile, and saw her cheeks flushed.

"I'm glad you liked it," she smiled. "Would you like me to make this out to someone?"

"Loki," he nodded.

"Loki?" a smile flashed across her face. "Is that you or..."

"It is me, my dear."

"That's a lovely name. I'll assume you know the origin?"

"Do you?"

"Of course. The Norse God of Lies."

"And Mischief," he added, with a nod.

She eyed him for a moment before looking down to sign the book.

"Are you enjoying Las Vegas?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Honestly? It's a bit showy for me. Too loud and too many people."

"You prefer solitude?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I don't need large crowds to enjoy myself. Do you live here?"

"Temporarily."

"How long have you been here?"

"Not too long."

"Aren't you just a fount of description?" she chuckled.

"What kind of God of Mischief would I be if I didn't leave you hungry for more information?" he smirked.

She laughed. "I would not consider a book signing the height of mischief."

"It is a somewhat quiet activity. I may have to go looking for trouble later."

"You won't have a problem with that in this town."

"Would it be too bold of me to ask you, my dear, if you would accompany me to dinner tonight? I have a proposition I'd like to present you," he said with a charming smile.

"A proposition?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Strictly business, I assure you."

She studied him for a long moment. "Yes," she said slowly.

"Shall I wait for you in the hall?"

"Oh, no, I think I'm just about done here. I am not interested in going to the reception for the organizers and listen to them pat themselves on the back."

"Then I shall whisk you away," he smirked, offering her an arm. She checked to make sure no one was around before ducking out together.

"Did you have any spot in mind?" she asked as he led her back towards the strip.

"What do you have a fancy for, my dear?"

"I'm honestly not difficult."

"Then I know just the place," he smiled.

As they walked, she took the opportunity to look him over. If she had to give a first impression, he looked like the archetypal Slytherin: long, black hair that was worn back, though no tie to keep in place. Strong features were apparent under pale skin, with piercing eyes that betrayed a haunted past. His clothes were expensive, and exquisitely tailored, in dark gray and green. He held himself with confidence, and there was an old world charm to him. If only her friends could see her, within minutes of them telling her she needed to concern herself more with her life and less with the well-being of others, she accepted a spontaneous dinner invitation from a man whose last name she didn't know.

He led her into one of the larger hotels, leading her skillfully through crowds heading to the theater and a few groups of scantily-clad women heading to the nightclub, and held the door of a dimly-lit restaurant open for her.

"Good evening, Mr. Odinson," the hostess straightened up and smiled at him. "Table for two tonight, I see." She beamed at him while looking over Hermione with an appraising eye. Hermione, however, was looking at Loki, her brow furrowed in thought.

"Yes, please, Sandra," he reached out to shake her hand, and when they pulled away Hermione noticed her stuffing some money into her pocket. "As much privacy as can be afforded, if you could?" he winked.

"I have just the table," she said, with a flirtatious smile and an unconscious shimmy of her shoulders. "Follow me."

"Ladies first." Loki bowed, motioning Hermione into the dining room first. She followed the hostess through the tables sparsely populated with late-night diners to a corner table with no one sitting within fifteen feet. Loki immediately moved to pull out the plush chair for Hermione, expertly moving it in as she sat, before taking the place across from her.

"Andrew will be your server; he should be by shortly to take your drink order. As always, our wine selection is excellent, and our sommelier will be happy to help you with pairings." Sandra smiled at Loki again as she placed the leather-bound menus in front of them, then shot Hermione a jealous look before leaving.

"Do you have a wine preference?" he asked.

"It's been a while since I've had Muggle wine," she admitted.

"Perhaps I can make a suitable selection. Do you prefer red or white?"

"Red."

"And so you'll have it," he smiled as the waiter arrived. Without even looking at the wine list, Loki ordered a bottle.

"Very good, Mr. Odinson," Andrew, the waiter, nodded before hurrying off.

"You must eat here often; the staff all seem to know you by name," Hermione observed.

"I have a room upstairs," he said with a casual shrug. "It is convenient for dinner, and the steaks are..." he paused, looking for the right word, a flash of distaste crossing his face. "Quite palatable," he finished.

She studied him, until she was unable to refrain from asking a question. "Your last name is Odinson?" she asked, curious.

"Is there something wrong with that?" he asked, a smile tugging one side of his mouth.

"It's funny in that it means 'son of Odin', and, if I remember my mythology correctly, Loki was a son of Odin. Is it some sort of stage name?"

"No," he shook his head, smiling widely. "That is my given name."

"Your parents must be big fans, then," she chuckled. "Don't tell me you have a brother named Thor."

A dark look flashed across his face, but he quickly replaced it with a good-natured smile that, in the dim light, would be hard for her to notice was forced. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"I see," her face fell, and she studied him for a moment before opening the menu to hide her stare. As she looked it over she scowled.

"Is nothing to your liking, my dear?" he asked.

"Oh, no, everything looks delicious," she said quickly.

"You are put off by the prices," he stated.

"It just... seems like an awful amount of money to spend on a single meal."

"Should I request a menu without prices for you? For I am treating you, and as such, I should think that price should not concern you."

"I didn't mean to insult your hospitality..."

"You are a conservative woman, my dear. It is an admirable trait. You do not mind treating yourself on occasion, but you have your limits. I understand that, and I respect that. However, if I were the publisher for one of your books, would you question my choice in dining establishments?"

"Of course not. And since you said we were here on business, I shouldn't question your choices. And I apologize."

"Accepted," he nodded. "I do not wish you to concern yourself with price, and I do want you to enjoy your meal. Please, order whatever piques your interest."

The wine came shortly after, and they ordered. Small talk came easily over the first two courses, and it was only when the entree came that Hermione felt comfortable broaching the subject that brought them there.

"You said you had a business proposition for me," she gently prodded.

"And I do, my dear," he said, laying down his utensils. "Tell me, what are your beliefs when it comes to myths and tales of old?"

She bit her lip as she considered her answer. "I've learned, through some of my travels and adventures, to not automatically dismiss such tales," she replied carefully.

"What would you say if I were to tell you our conversation about my name was not too far off the truth?"

"What? That you're Loki? Son of Odin? God of Mischief and Lies?"

She studied his face, expecting him to laugh and announce his joke, but nothing came. "I would give you the chance to prove yourself," she replied softly.

"And if I did?"

"I would wonder what a god would want to do with a mortal such as myself."

"I need assistance that only one such as you can provide," he answered, eyes locking with hers.

"If the stories are true, I can hardly help you. Your magic would be well beyond my own, as is your intelligence, strength, and cleverness."

"It is exactly those traits, which put me in the position I am in. I have been banished. I need someone who is willing to champion for me."

"You should easily be able to manipulate any Muggle in this room to provide such testimony. Why me?"

"They expect me to manipulate, to control, whoever I find. They are taking precautions against this. The person I find must speak freely of their own accord. You, my dear, are ideal in that aspect."

"And why should I vouch for you? I hardly know you."

"I do not expect you to offer testimony for me immediately. I know it will take time. And I am willing to compensate you for the time and effort it will take for you to be comfortable enough to stake your name on me. I noticed you wrote a book about werewolf rights. I would happily commission, for a large author's fee of course, a similar book on vampire rights. Perhaps this is an agreeable number," he murmured, slipping a piece of paper she didn't notice him write on across the table to her.

She picked it up and read the number, and her mouth went slack. It was equal to nearly ten years of her salary. She wanted to write another book, but writing took time she couldn't find as she needed to work. Her goal was to become an author and lecturer, currently she did six or seven lectures a year, though another book could double or triple that number, if not more. The amount of money he was offering would mean she could easily quit her job to follow her dreams.

"If you are who you claim, how can I trust that you will follow through?" she asked softly.

He smiled. "Quite clever," he murmured. "You cannot. However, if you agree, I will accompany you to whatever financial institution you use, and deposit half the money. Even half will be enough to subsidize you for some time, will it not?"

"It would," she admitted. "What, exactly, do you expect of me?"

"If you accept, you will spend as much time with me as it takes for you to feel comfortable in your task. I will accommodate you during this time, food and lodging, whatever you need. One of the conditions of your testimony is that you must be aware of all my misdeeds from the past. I am sure they will ask you a few questions to verify I have complied with full disclosure..."

"Excuse me, but who will ask me?"

"My father and mother. I will be here, on Midgard, with Thor as my guard to make sure I am not there to guide you or manipulate you."

"I'll be questioned by gods?" she whispered.

"Have I not already asked questions of you?" he cocked an eyebrow.

She blushed. "Yes, you have. But this is Earth. And talking to you is like talking to any other man. You don't look different, unless you count that I can feel the magical energy coming off you."

"To answer your question, yes, you will be questioned by gods. And it will be in a different realm."

She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled.

"The bottom line is I need a human to advocate for me. You have a documented history of advocating for the downtrodden and disadvantaged."

"What if I spend time with you and cannot find it in myself to give my word for you?"

"Then we will part ways. You will keep what I will put in your account, and we will never speak again."

She thought about it for several minutes, wordlessly finishing her entree and allowing him to pour her more wine and order her dessert. Finally she sat up straighter, steeling her nerves.

"I'll do it," she said softly. "I make no promises as to how things will go from here, but I will give you a chance."

"To chances," he smirked, toasting her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I forgot to say this in my first chapter, but I have two thank-yous. First, to bunnyhops, who agreed to be my beta though she doesn't normally work with crossovers. Loki is hard to resist. Also to RiaBinger, who put up with every frustration, gripe, writers block, and mood swing that went into writing this. Thanks again to both of you!**

She returned to her hotel room after dinner with her mind racing. She could scarcely believe she had just agreed to help Loki, and she was quite sure he was _the_ Loki though she could never explain why. She wondered if everything would go south tomorrow, when she was to take Loki into magical community to visit the Las Vegas Gringotts Branch. Also, she would have to find a library or bookstore, even a Muggle one would have the information she needed to refresh her memory of Norse mythology. She had planned to leave the city in two days with her friends, so she would have to think up a convincing lie for what may turn into an extended absence. She hadn't expected them back when she returned from dinner. She knew they were probably at a nightclub or gambling, so she anticipated being able to fall asleep without drunken ramblings around her, but she was too keyed up to actually sleep. She gave up around two in the morning, pulling out her suitcase and starting to pack her things.

Ten minutes later the door opened. Harry, Ginny, and Ron entered loudly, and Harry and Ginny immediately started to stumble towards the room opposite hers for drunken sex. Her room had two beds, one for her and one for Ron, though it was only that way because she threatened to get her own room. Ginny, and in fact most of the Weasleys, were hoping that she and Ron would get drunk, fall into bed, and rekindle their romance, but Hermione, while on good terms with her friend, was not interested in being Mrs. Ronald Weasley. Nothing about them clicked, every annoying habit he had seemed amplified when she felt the pressure of romance. The arguments came quickly and often, and the sex was rushed and lacking passion. She had stayed with him for two years, hoping things would get better, and, as Ron was known to do, there were strokes of brilliance; moments where there was romance, moments where a future with him didn't seem so bad. But those were the moments that convinced her they weren't going to work. She didn't need to settle for 'didn't seem so bad'. She needed someone her heart ached for, someone who challenged her intellect and kept things exciting, and someone she couldn't wait to fall into bed with. Ron wasn't that man; he would never be that man. Sleeping together again would be a monumental mistake, and an admission that she was willing to settle.

The truth was that she was as excited about being away from her friends for a while as she was to hear about the Norse legends straight from the source. They had been making her uncomfortable lately, trying to discourage her from her advocacy work, taunting her for spending so much time at the office and working one-on-one with abused house elves, Ginny even called her a selfish bitch for bringing a werewolf who was being hunted to Grimmauld Place to keep him safe. She needed to get away from them for a while, and she couldn't think of a better opportunity than spending the next few days, maybe even weeks, with a god.

"Whatchoo doin', 'Mia- knee?" Ron's drunken slur came from the doorway.

"Packing," she replied shortly.

"Whatchoo packing for?"

"I've got a job I'm starting in the morning."

"Bloody fantastic. 'Nother job. You got too much of 'em."

She fought the urge to respond, biting her tongue as a preventative measure. Instead, she slammed her suitcase shut and strode out of the room, expecting to sit and watch a little telly until she fell asleep. She would finish packing in the morning. But the next thing she knew, the cell phone Loki had given her the night before was ringing loudly next to her, and a morning news program was playing.

"Hullo?" she asked as she answered the phone.

"Good morning, my dear," Loki's smooth voice replied, and she could picture the mischievous smile across his face. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," she lied.

"I will be coming by in about fifteen minutes to collect you. As I am staying in what you would call a Muggle hotel, I would think it suspicious if I suddenly had a young lady occupying the second room of my suite without you officially moving in, so I thought it would be best to do this in a somewhat conspicuous fashion."

"Okay," she readily agreed.

"I promise you will be able to get some of the sleep you lacked when you admit you're feeling tired," he said then hung up without a farewell or even asking where she was staying. She didn't tell him the night before, and she had Apparated back, but she would have to get used to being around such a powerful being for a while.

She stood and stretched, starting to make coffee.

"Who the ruddy hell is calling so early in the morning?" Harry grumbled as he entered the room, getting a coffee cup and standing by the coffee maker, ready to usurp the first of the available brew.

"My new employer," she replied, deciding against telling them exactly who she would be working with until after her experience was finished.

"Is there coffee?" Ron and Ginny asked in unison as they appeared in their doorways.

"New employer?" Harry ignored his fiancé and his best friend, suddenly looking more awake. "What new employer?"

"I'm going to be working with a... wealthy diplomatic sort for a bit," she answered, hiding her smirk. If she was going to be working with the God of Mischief and Lies it would behoove her to learn to convincingly deceive someone.

"Doing what?" Ron asked. He and Ginny both looked surprisingly alert, and they sat at the small table, staring at her.

"He wants me to go over some history, use that information and some information we'll be getting in to form an opinion on a matter, and present my opinion to a group."

"That sounds ridiculously vague," Ginny pointed out.

"It makes perfect sense in my mind."

"What are you giving an opinion about?"

"Norse mythology and its current applications."

"And a _diplomat_ is asking you to do this?" Ron sounded skeptical.

"I said diplomatic type. And he's not only asking me, he's paying me handsomely for my time and effort."

"How handsomely?" Harry asked.

"About ten years' salary."

"Bleeding hell, Hermione, that's tens of thousands of Galleons!"

"I didn't choose the figure. He did."

"And all he wants is for you to go over some history with him?"

"Yes, though technically the money is to help finance a book about vampire rights."

"Are you sleeping with him?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes and wearing a smug smile.

"No."

"Are you going to? Because my vote is for yes, unless he's totally repulsive."

"He is quite charming, and handsome in his own way..."

"And apparently as loaded as a Malfoy." Ron was sounding bitter.

"I don't care how much money someone I sleep with has. Sex is not part of the job, but depending on the circumstance, I wouldn't turn it down," she lied, her own mischievous smile playing on her lips. The more uncomfortable they felt, the better. "Now, if you'll excuse me, he wants me to move into his suite at the Bellagio, and I have to finish packing."

"For how long?" Harry followed her to her room.

"Until the job is done."

"You know this doesn't sound right, don't you? We're going to get a note or something in a few days telling us how much we need to pay to get you back."

"I'm not going to let something happen to me. I promise my wand will not be away from me for even a second, and I will fully secure my room at night," she said, trying to sound confident, but realizing just how foolish her arrangement was sounding. She remembered somewhere Loki had been referred to as 'Silvertongue'. He certainly used one to get her to agree to the assignment.

"It's not that I doubt you, but we don't know him..."

There was a rap on the door.

"Now would be your chance to meet him, then," she said as the last of her things packed themselves neatly into their suitcase and she carried it out to the common room.

Harry was already opening the door, staring with an appraising eye at Loki. To his credit, Loki seemed to realize he had to impress her friends, and he flashed them a charming smile.

"Is this Dr. Granger's room?" he asked.

"It's all of ours," Harry replied. "But yeah, she's here."

"Come in, Loki," Hermione called when Harry made no offer.

"Thank you, Dr. Granger," he walked in and gave her a little bow. "How does this morning find you?" he asked, holding a hand out for hers.

"Well," she said, fighting a blush as he raised her hand to his lips. "You?"

"It is a fine morning," he said, before turning to Ginny, kissing her hand as well. "Loki Odinson," he introduced, and Hermione was glad her friends had no interest in mythology.

"Ginny Weasley," she replied with a schoolgirl sigh that turned Harry's ears red. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," he nodded then turned to Ron, who crossed his arms before introducing himself. Harry had to be elbowed by Ginny in order to say his name.

"Are you ready to go, my dear?" Loki turned to Hermione.

"Yes," she said, patting her suitcase.

"Would your friends be more comfortable with our arrangement if you left them the number of the phone I gave you, so they can reach you?"

"Not a bad idea," she said quickly.

He waved a hand in the air, and a piece of paper appeared, which he handed to Hermione, who looked at the sheet in astonishment before handing it to Ginny, who was the only one of her friends who didn't seem to be trying to stare Loki down.

"Let me get that for you," Loki picked up the heavy suitcase with ease. "I will be waiting by the car. It was a pleasure to meet you all," he added, and left before anyone could reply.

"I don't like this," Harry asked after Loki was gone. "There's something... off about him."

"It's called chivalry," Ginny snapped. "I think he's quite charming."

"No, Harry's right," Ron frowned. "He reminds me of Lucius Malfoy. He might seem charming, but there's something darker beneath the surface."

"Something darker," Ginny scoffed. "My vote is now firmly in the 'sleep with him' category, 'Mione."

"Thanks, Ginny. Glad to know my sex life is up to a vote," she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, sod off, you know what I meant."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to Harry. "Would you feel more comfortable if I called you every day?"

"Yes," he replied quickly. "Hermione, I have a bad feeling about this. I feel like you're going to get hurt."

"Then I'll let you say 'I told you so'."

"I'd rather not say it at your funeral."

"You won't. I'll call. I promise. He's not going to hurt me. There's a chance I'm going to walk away from this later today."

"I hope you do."

"Goodbye, Harry," she hugged him tightly. Ron hugged her stiffly, hoping for her to offer to call him despite the fact that he didn't own a phone, but it didn't come.

"Don't forget... sleep with him," Ginny whispered as they hugged.

"Since you've started fucking Harry every ten minutes, you've become horrible!" she sighed.

"It's fun. You should try it."

"You're incorrigible. Enjoy the rest of your vacation. Give him a long enough break to eat something, yeah?"

"I'll try," she smirked.

"Why don't you turn your considerable match-making desire to find someone for your brother?"

"Because he's my brother."

"Touché. I'll see you when I'm done with this."

"I want details."

"Never."

She bid them good-bye one more time, and went out to find Loki waiting by a dark-colored sedan.

"Shall we?" he smiled, opening the door for her and holding his hand out to help her in. She slid across the seat and he sat next to her.

"You have to tell me where to get to the bank of your preference, my dear," he said.

She glanced at the driver.

"He won't remember a thing," he murmured.

"Echelon Place," she told the driver.

"There's nothing there, ma'am," the driver sounded confused. "They never managed to open it."

"Just go," she urged. "Park across the street."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, putting up the partition.

They drove in silence for a while before she finally asked, "And how will he not remember us?"

"Either you or I will take care of it," he smiled.

"Do you know how to change someone's memory?"

"I haven't tried, but I can make the attempt if I must."

"I'll do it," she sighed. "If you mess it up, he'll forget who he is, we only want to delete a single memory."

"I'll leave it to you, then, my dear."

The talk turned banal until the driver parked.

"Wait here," Loki murmured, slipping him some money through his open window. "If you must get food, do so, but tell no one of us."

"Yes, sir," the man nodded.

Hermione and Loki crossed the street, and they walked out of sight of the car. When they came to a sign that was hanging off from one corner Hermione checked to make sure no one saw them, and took out her wand, touching five letters in order. The sign quickly opened, and they ducked through. They were still on the property, but no one from the outside could see them. Nevertheless she hurried across the vacant parking lot, and pushed open the door to a building.

The inside of the building was loud and vibrant, with witches and wizards moving about. The shops were set up like in a mall, with glass storefronts displaying wares. Loki looked around with interest. He was well aware of the magic on Midgard, he had no idea they had such large and complex hidden communities, though he wished he had searched them out sooner.

"Quidditch?" he asked, looking at a display of brooms.

"A game witches and wizards play on broomsticks. I watch, but I'm not as big a fan as my friends. Ginny plays professionally."

"Interesting," he murmured, his eyes moving to the sweet shop.

"There's Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," she said, pointing to the lurid orange sign across the way. "A good friend of mine owns the chain."

"Ron?"

"No, one of his brothers, George."

"One of his brothers?"

"He has four. He used to have five. George's twin, Fred, died in the war."

"I've heard a lot about your war. It was quite interesting to some," he said vaguely, hungrily eying a bookshop.

She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn't, she pointed to another storefront, this one unlike the others, made of the same distinctive white marble as its London branch.

"Gringotts," she said as they approached. "The only bank in our world. Nearly every wizarding community has a branch, though they are headquartered in London."  
"Stop!" a goblin held up his hand as they entered. "You will wait here, someone will come to escort you," he said, motioning to a small alcove.

"Is something wrong?" Loki asked as he watched a woman and her small daughter pass through security easily.

"I get this at every branch. I'm always under scrutiny here."

"May I ask why?"

"During the war Harry, Ron, and I earned the distinction of being the only group who managed to break in, actually steal something, and then break out. It was necessary for the war effort, and we were legally forgiven, but the goblins have rather long memories, and we're always escorted when we come here."

"But you only took what was necessary for victory in your war?" he sounded confused.

"And I may have released one of their security dragons into the wild."

He chuckled. "Would that be what you may find that is more than treasure?"

"That and a few other nasty surprises. And now every time one of us comes here, we get an escort. Luckily, my vault is in London, so we won't have to deal with the full-scale search they do when I actually want to visit my money."

Another goblin came over, eying her suspiciously. "This way, Dr. Granger and friend of Dr. Granger," he said, turning and walking off.

"Best stay close," she whispered to Loki, taking his arm and pulling him along a row of desks to the final one.

"Sit," the goblin ordered, and they hastened to comply as the goblin moved to the other side.

"What is it you need today, Dr. Granger?"

"She needs to make a deposit," Loki announced.

The goblin scrutinized him.

"I am Dr. Granger's new employer. I have her contract bonus," he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a box that had no right to fit. The goblin took it and opened it, eyebrow raising.

"Sir, there's no need to carry this kind of money. We can take it from your account..."

"I do not have an account here, nor do I desire one," he said shortly. "Make the deposit."

"I shall convert this to Galleons, then. Wait here," the goblin disappeared into the back.

"May I ask where you got loads of Muggle money?" she muttered when they were alone.

"Casino games are pathetically easy to fix if you know what you're doing. The hard part is being careful about not attracting attention or winning too much. Ridiculous mortal laws, they have no qualms about taking a man's last coin, but as soon as you return the favor they start tracking every moment," he sounded irritated.

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him, and she realized she must be hearing the real Loki for the first time. Of course he was going to be charming during their first meeting and as much as possible thereafter, but he still had a reason he needed her to vouch for him. And she was going to have to hear the darker side of Loki sooner rather than later.

"Your deposit slip, Dr. Granger." The goblin returned, but didn't sit, thrusting a piece of parchment at her.

"Thank you," she said, scanning it and trying not to let her face redden at the number, before folding it and putting it in her purse. They left without another word.

"Is there anything you'd like to stop for?" Loki asked as they made it back out into the mall, which had gotten busier.

"No. Let's just get out of here before..."

"Mommy, look! It's Hermione Granger!" a little girl pointed excitedly.

"That happens," Hermione murmured.

She gamely signed a few autographs and took a couple pictures then Loki got impatient.

"She must be going," he said, placing an arm around her. "She has work to do."

"Sorry," she said repeatedly as they moved through the small group that had formed and back out of the mall. They were back in the car and heading toward the Bellagio when Loki turned to her.

"You are uncomfortable with fame," he noted.

"I am uncomfortable with how I earned it. People remember who I am from all the press after, they forget the hell I went through to get there, and they gave me no privacy to mourn after."

"Humans clamor to their idols. They will wait for hours for a chance to see them even with no chance of interaction. You did not stop them from spending time with you, and yet you owe them nothing."

"If I can make someone's day a little better by posing for a picture or signing an autograph, I'd like to. I don't every time, if I'm in a hurry I turn people down, but if I have a few minutes I'll stop."

"You fought so they would have the freedom to move around in public like that without worry of those Death Eaters. And they forget it."

"They won't forget me. Or Ron and Harry. They've forgotten the others who fought with us," she said softly.

The driver pulled into the driveway of the Bellagio and parked, quickly moving to take Hermione's bag out. Before she even got out of the car, a bellhop had hurried forward to gather the bag.

"All right today, Mister Odinson?" he asked.

"Well," he nodded. "Dr. Granger will be staying with me for a while. She shall need a key."

"I'll make sure they know," he nodded.

Within minutes, they were upstairs, and Hermione's jaw dropped. She stayed in upscale rooms before, but everything in this room was exquisite. The bellhop deposited her bag in a room to the right, and Loki tipped him and closed the door.

"Is it to your liking?" Loki asked.

"It's amazing," she whispered, walking into the living room, which overlooked the strip below and the mountains in the distance.

"Good. Would you like to get settled?"

"Actually, I think it would be best if we got something out of the way. You told me you needed to tell me everything about your past. I've read some of the stories, but I'd like to hear it from you. Why don't we start there, because I'd hate to get settled and decide after that I cannot work with you."

"Very well," he nodded. "The bar is there, if you need a drink."

She debated then poured herself a glass of wine. She sunk onto a seat, and he stood at the window.

"I guess I should start when I was young..." he said, eyes glazing over.


	3. Chapter 3

To her credit, Hermione paid attention to every story with apparent interest, and resisted the urge to drain her wine and walk out. There were times she would let off a disgusted noise, and most of the time her eyes were focused at nothing in particular outside the window.

For some reason that intrigued him.

He considered embellishing the tales, to see how far he could push her, but realized that the fact that she had made it as far as she had without at least needing a break or stopping him from some of his more descriptive stories meant her skin was thicker than most. He could tell she was truly the scholar, not shrinking away from some fascinating history because it was unpleasant. So many of the mortals around her liked to sugar-coat their history, to forget the way things happened in favor of a more romanticized version, and often argued that things that happened in the past should stay firmly in the past. And, of course, there were those who would absolve him of everything he had done, as long as he begged forgiveness from their God of choice.

Dr. Granger, on the other hand, would not be so quick to forgive or forget. She had been through too much in her life to make his task easy, and for that, he found her fascinating. She was stronger-willed than those around her, not even letting her friends sway her despite their pleas. There was power there, a natural talent for magic, he could feel it. And yet, with all her power and infamous intelligence, she chose to help those around her less fortunate. It was curious, how she seemed to have no drive to put herself in a position of power over others. People responded to her, adored her, hunted her down for a chance to prove they had been in her presence. That translated well to those who aspired to more on her planet, and there was little doubt power would be hers if she would reach out and take it, and yet she showed no desire. Frigga would think that she would make the best kind of ruler. One who sympathized with her people, who knew the pains they would feel if she sent them to war, and who would rule with kindness and compassion, only using battle as a last resort when all other diplomatic attempts had failed.

But she was certainly not a weakling. She was a warrior who could fight, and conquer, if the need arose, and believed in justice for those who wronged others. She was strict, but loving. He felt a rush as he finished his stories. If Hermione would still be the one who would advocate for him, he had no doubt Frigga would believe every word that came from this girl's mouth, and she would convince Odin of the same.

They sat in silence for a long moment as the weight of the stories sunk in for Hermione, but surprisingly her face was devoid of emotion. More, she had the mindful look of a scholar, though it was not simply information she had just digested. It was what she needed to help a man who had come to her, who had sought her out. She was weighing things carefully, and just for a moment, he was sure she had decided against helping him, but it wasn't words of rejection that came out of her mouth.

"Can you give me a reason, and I only need one, as to why you want to return?" she asked softly.

He looked at her thoughtfully. A single reason as to why he wanted to return. Not why he should. Why he _wanted_ to return.

Thoughts swirled around his head: revenge, power, of proving himself better than those there, but was that really why he wanted to go back and stay? Wouldn't they know he had found his advocate, and completed his task? Couldn't he have more power on Earth than he did at home? And as for revenge... that wasn't going to happen even if she convinced them to let him back home. He'd play his quiet role behind his brother again, and eventually something else would happen, probably done by him, though they weren't above blaming him for every bad event that occurred in Asgard or even other realms. Why not stay in Midgard, lead a life teetering on the edge of forcing them to come down to intervene? Or would they call his bluff, know at one point he would get on the wrong side of someone more powerful than him and beg for them? Were they to be locked in a game of chicken, each waiting for the other to blink first? Would he die on Midgard to prove a point, never seeing his family again?

"I love my family, and my home," he replied softly, surprised at the words as they came out of his mouth. He hadn't intended to say them aloud. He looked away, ashamed of the truth.

She studied him a while longer. "There was a man I knew once, one of my Professors, actually. When he was young he made some poor decisions. He joined the Death Eaters because they gave him a sense of camaraderie. What young, socially outcast young man wouldn't want that? Unfortunately his devotion to the Dark Lord caused him to pass some information that led to the death of the one true friend he had. He blamed himself every day for her death, and his love for her turned the tide of our war. I will never say everything he did was good, he was quite nasty to most everyone around him; he was a liar, a spy, an unpleasant man, and a murderer, among his other crimes. When he died no one thought him anything more than the lowest sort of man. It was only after his death that the depth of his love was revealed, and we realized how wrong we had been about him. I have often wondered if he had just one person who loved him, one hint of hope in this world, if he would fight, try to survive, and go on to do great things to redeem his name. I feel guilt over his death more than any other, because I misjudged him, as had everyone. And I wish he knew how sorry I am for doubting him. In that spirit, I will continue to help you. You claim you love your family, and I believe it. Now show me how that love will change you as a man."

He opened his mouth, but she motioned for him to be silent.

"I'm going to leave for a while. I'm done with this for today. It is a lot for me to take in, and I must go somewhere to sort my head. You can start trying to convince me in the morning, though I will warn you that I will not be convinced simply by words alone. Good day, Loki," she finished in a whisper, and she turned heel, summoned her purse from her room, and walked out of the room.

He watched the door long after she had left. A strange thought rooted itself in his mind, and would not leave no matter how much he wished it so. He wanted Hermione to know that he had changed, and it wasn't to get back home. It was because he didn't want her to view him as a monster.

XXXXXXXXX

Before leaving the hotel she stopped at the front desk.

"Do you have any public computers?" she asked the desk clerk.

"In our business center," the clerk nodded. "Back that way; just follow the signs."

"Thank you," she nodded, hurrying to the center and finding it mostly empty with several open computers. She chose one in the back corner, ignored the man watching porn in front of her, and pulled up a search engine. She searched for any evidence of the Destroyer or Mjolnir, and within minutes had found several news stories about a gas explosion that had gone off in a small New Mexico town, not far from where an immovable hammer-shaped object had fallen from the sky a few days earlier. One site had a couple photos of the object, and though Hermione didn't know what Mjolnir looked like, she had to admit it certainly looked as though it could belong to Thor. The same site had a blurry picture of the base that had been built around, though the author said all their 'official' cameras had been confiscated by the government. There were a few photos of the town, and to Hermione, who had witnessed a few magical cover-ups, the gas-explosion excuse seemed weak. The destruction didn't look as though there had been an explosion, she could see a car that had been sliced cleanly in half. She stared at the photos for several minutes until she realized her hands were trembling. Then she cleared the history, closed the browser, and hurried from the room.

She stepped onto the bright, sun lit strip and looked up and down the road. The lights were already on, enticing people in with promises of riches that would probably never come, shows that would dazzle, mouth-watering food, and she wanted none of it. She hailed a taxi and climbed in the back.

"Where to, Miss?" the man in the front asked.

"A bookstore."

"Any preference?"

"The bigger, the better."

"Yes, Miss," he said, pulling out into traffic. As she rode through the city, she thought about Loki's stories, and the more she thought about them, the more she noticed a common theme. He toed the line, only crossing over when he felt wronged. He was a young man with no other outlet for his boredom, feelings of inadequacy, and frustrations than tricks and mischief, and he excelled in those categories. But when his anger overflowed, he crossed into truly destructive. It was almost the mindset of a young child, albeit a very intelligent one, with incredible magical powers and a knack for manipulation.

It was a short drive, no more than fifteen minutes. The store was far enough off the strip there wasn't a lot of tourist traffic, and with it being mid-afternoon in the middle of the week the parking lot was sparsely populated. She paid the driver and went inside.

"Good afternoon," a handsome man greeted her.

"Good afternoon," she said with an involuntary smile.

"Could I help you find something today?"

"Actually, yes. I was wondering if you had any books on Norse mythology?"

"Let's see if we could scrounge something up," he said with a swoon-worthy smile. She studied him as he led her through the shelves. He was about her age, tall, with sandy brown hair, and a slightly muscular physique. Not bad to look at, but for some reason she didn't find him as attractive as she normally would, and it wasn't hard to think of why. Loki dominated her thoughts, as he had since he had first sought her out. Perhaps Ginny was right. Perhaps some mindless sex was what she needed, she felt her game was off and she was desperate for any kind of connection, even if it was with a demigod famous for his tricks and silver tongue.

"Here we are," the man said, stopping at a row of shelves under the 'Mythology' label. "Any book in particular?"

"Not really," she said. "I just... first started hearing a bit about Norse mythology recently, and I admit I have a bit of a fascination."

"It's always fun to get those sort of fascinations," he smiled. "Even better if you have time to read up about it when it hits you. Ah, here we go. Norse Mythology: Tales of Gods and Heroes. This might be worth a look-over. We have a few more here."

She bent over to look, and quickly selected three more books: Great Stories of the Eddas, Tales of Asgard, and The Hammer of Thor.

"Someone painted Thor on the wall of the gym I go to," he said. "Big guy. I guess we're supposed to try to emulate him or something."

"Are you going for the big-muscle look?" she asked.

"I do work out, but not that much. You?"

"Oh, no. If it comes to Norse gods, I'm more a Loki, at least when it comes to physique," she smiled.

"I may have to read one of these to figure out what that means," he chuckled. "I'm more into the supernatural. You know, werewolves, vampires, magic, that sort of thing. Sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"No," she shook her head. "Just one of those fascinations, I guess."

He laughed. "I'm Mark. Full-time worker, part-time student."

"I'm... Dr. Hermione Granger."

"Doctor, you say?"

"More like PhD. I'm an advocate for the disadvantage and the abused."

"What brings you to Vegas?"

"I gave a speech the other night about... justified murderers and their place in society."

"Justified murderers? Sounds like an interesting lot."

"I'm sure you would find them interesting."

"Excuse me," a man snapped behind them. "I need help finding a book."

"Talk to you later, Dr. Hermione Granger," Mark whispered before turning to the man. Hermione hurried to the front of the store to buy the books then she doubled back into the small cafe, where she ordered a pre-made sandwich and a rather horrible cup of tea, and started reading. Twice she went for more tea, and once a cookie, as she was lost in the stories, reading each carefully, trying to gain context for Loki's tales.

"Still here, Dr. Hermione Granger?" Mark's voice cut into her thoughts.

"I must have gotten lost in the fascination," she said, marking her place and looking up at him.

"Well, you have another half-hour to be lost in the fascination here before the store closes up. Or, perhaps, would you like to have dinner together?"

Hermione studied him, willing herself to find him attractive, to think if she would be willing to go home with him after dinner. But Loki was still cemented in her brain, and for some reason, she was unable to think of another man at that moment. She hated herself for the thought, with all the things he had told her about that day. But it was the last thing, about loving his family that eclipsed everything else. It had turned Loki from the God of Mischief and Lies to a man, very real, who needed help; who wanted desperately to get home and gain approval of his family. And she realized why he sought her out instead of one of the other mortals surrounding them, one he could easily manipulate and ply to do whatever he wanted. He found her because she was an uncertainty. He couldn't ply her; he couldn't manipulate her and form her into exactly what he needed. She would have to turn into that on her own, and that would be a world of difference to his family. Just a normal person would leave his family wondering if Loki had really wanted to change, or if he had just convinced some weak-willed mortal to repeat what he needed repeated. Someone like her, speaking freely and openly, would be much more convincing. Loki was just another son, looking for affirmation from his parents.

"I'm sorry. I have a very early morning, and I really shouldn't have stayed this late," she murmured.

"Oh," his face fell. "Well, here is my number, in case you change your mind," he said, scribbling his number on a piece of scrap paper and handing it to her.

"Yeah. Thanks," she flashed him a forced smile, and stuffed the number into her pocket.

"See you around," he mumbled, and he turned to leave.

She watched him go, trying to force herself to call him back, to have dinner with her and take her away from the weight of her assignment for a while, but too soon the door was closed, and the opportunity was gone. She sighed, and left the store a few minutes later, finding an alley, and Apparating to the nearest magically-safe point to the Bellagio. She walked past groups of people out to have fun, and took the elevator up with a young couple, who didn't seem to notice there was someone else sharing their ride. Finally, she let herself into the room. She expected Loki to be waiting for her, but everything was silent, though she would soon find it wasn't because of his absence. Instead, she found him in the living room, sitting on one of the large chairs, brow furrowed as he worked his way through a book. Her stomach dropped as she recognized the book; a detailed account of the war from the Golden Trio's point of view, one she could hardly deny as she had given the young author an interview, not to mention an amazing shag. Her autobiography, the copy she signed for him, was sitting on the table next to him, the spine broken in several places, showing he had read it through.

She placed her own books on the coffee table and picked up where she left off, or at least attempted to. But the proximity to Loki was distracting, and she found herself staring at him out of the corner of her eye. The god, no, the man reminded her much of herself in that moment, so engrossed in his reading that the rest of the world melted away from around him. His eyes scanned the pages quicker than hers could, though he was absorbing the material rather than just skimming it. Every so often an emotion would play across his face, and she knew he was visualizing some of the things she had gone through, and she wondered what he was reading. Was the anger in his eyes directed towards her, or those who fought her? She felt something welling up inside her, and it took several minutes for her to peg it as desire. Hadn't she always hoped to find a man like him? Someone who thirsted for knowledge as she did, and viewed the world differently, not content to let things pass by? And Loki was not an unattractive man, for his many Slytherin-like qualities. There was always something about the Slytherins that Hermione secretly craved, a bit of danger and mystery about them, and she was a sucker for a hint of forbidden romance. And what could be more forbidden than her, the female third of the Golden Trio, viewed as the penultimate good girl, with the dark, and somewhat dangerous silver-tongued mischief maker from another world?

"You have led a remarkable life, my dear," he said suddenly, closing the book and carefully laying it on the table next to him.

"Go back to the wizarding mall for that?"

"Of course I did. I thought I'd watch your kind for a while, though I find them not much better than those you call Muggles. They have resigned themselves to their place in life, and are happy with the way things are. The young woman I bought the book from expressed dissatisfaction at the fact that you have strayed from being a champion of Muggle-borns to advocate for supposedly lesser beings."

"I feel I'm a better champion of Muggle-borns, because I'm not going around making a case of it. There are enough people out there who are doing much of that work. I am prominent. I will advocate when the situation calls for it, but I feel I do more by showing I am just as good and influential as any pureblood."

"You are not like them."

"I thought that's why you approached me."

He nodded once. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I think so."

"Have you had anything for dinner?"

"No."

"If you prefer to stay here, there is an array of menus of things we could order for delivery."

"Sounds good," she said, and he produced the stack. They decided on pizza, and she took a shower waiting for it to arrive. She returned to the living room wearing her tartan pajamas when she smelled the pizza.

"That is quite the deviation from your normal attire," he noted as she took a piece of pizza and turned on the late-night news.

"It's my pajamas. What I sleep in," she added when he gave her a quizzical look. "Do you not sleep?"

"When I need, I do."

"But not every day?"

"I do not expend much energy here."

"But you do eat," she pointed out.

"This garbage you mortals call sustenance is hardly enough to sustain, but it somehow does," he said, punctuating his point by taking a bite of pizza and frowning, then proceeding to pick off the meat toppings, discarding everything else.

"I'll admit, this isn't the best pizza, but it can't all be bad. You seem to like the restaurant we went to last night."

"They make a passable bit of beef."

"I think you're holding the chefs to too high of standards."

"I think you do not require them to bring out the true potential of your food."

"That is more a matter of opinion. I found the food excellent."

"Perhaps you do not know better."

"Perhaps I shall get you a cow, then, and you can enlighten me," she grumbled, turning her attention to the television.

He chuckled. He waited until a commercial was on then asked, "Do you fly?"

"I have, though it's not my preferred form of transportation."

"Are you confined to broomstick?"

"No. I've personally ridden a Thestral and a dragon as well, and there are Hypogriffs, and Sirius' old motorbike..."

"But you are confined to having something to ride?"

"Well... I am, but not everyone is. I know of two instances where an individual could fly without assistance, but I never learned, and both those people are dead."

"Killed in your war?"

"Yes."

He studied her for a long moment. "Have you ever killed someone, Hermione?"

She looked him in the eyes for a moment before nodding, and saying softly, "I did in the battle. I didn't think I'd have the strength to cast a killing curse, but it's amazing what you can do when your life is on the line."

"How many?"

"Four. That I personally saw die by my wand. I cast a few other curses that could have had the potential to kill, though things were chaotic and I don't know who I hit or what their outcome was."

"And since?"

"I haven't had reason to kill anyone."

"Even when you work with dangerous creatures?"

"There are tricks to dealing with someone more dangerous than you. It differs from race to race. Werewolves are least dangerous around the new moon. Vampires rarely kill when their thirst is sated, and they prefer not to kill those they know. Things like that."

"Would you?"

"Kill again? If I were part of a battle. I hope not to be in that position again, but I will not shy away if something else like Voldemort comes up. Would you?"

"Probably. I don't like taking life, Hermione. I just never really thought about those souls I was relieving of their bodies. They were enemies; however I happened to define that term at the moment. Do you think of those you have killed?"

"No. I know they would have taken my life as quickly as I took theirs. I just happened to draw quicker. Killing, in and of itself, is not a wholly unforgivable act, based on the circumstances. Killing an innocent, unarmed child is murder by almost every definition, but we enter a gray area when it comes to war. I don't envy the Muggles. Our battle was close-quarters; you had to have a line of sight on the target. Muggles have made it so someone hundreds of miles away can deal death without knowing the faces of those they just killed."

"And you _don't_ envy them?"

"I'd rather look at the face, and know for certain that if I don't kill them they will kill me. It takes the moral dilemma away. I am doing what I must to preserve my own life. But what they do, deal death with buttons from flying machines, it's so impersonal. They can just as easily kill a baby as the enemy they are targeting. They are under no threat themselves in that moment; they are just carrying out orders. I don't think I could live with myself if I knew I ended the life of one innocent."

"There are always innocent casualties of war."

"Yes, but if I do not kill from a distance the chances of causing their death myself is negligible."

He watched her as she turned her attention back to the news. In his mind, his earlier thoughts had just been affirmed, and he started visualizing introducing her to his headstrong, quick-tempered brother, and watching as the feisty, level-headed mortal brought him down to size.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: When I wrote the dancing scene I had the Stone Sour version of "Wicked Game" in mind for the street performers. I'd recommend checking it out, I think it works well.**

A couple days passed, and the more time they spent around each other, the more Hermione admitted to herself that she was enjoying Loki's presence. There were times when his condescending nature would grate on her nerves, and she suspected at times he was doing it on purpose to get a rise out of her, but most of the time he was an intelligent, open individual. They would talk for hours on end about the use of magic in their realms, and the moral justifications for war or killing. Their conversations might not be the most pleasant subjects, but she considered it part of her job to get to know that side of him. She wanted an understanding of the man before she stood up and vouched for him. But occasionally he would say something horribly insensitive, and she'd leave him alone for a while. After the first few of these, he seemed to be making a conscientious effort to avoid those moments. At times she wondered if he was starting to enjoy her company as much as she was starting to enjoy his.

"I feel like getting away from the bright lights tonight," he announced one afternoon.

"Where would you like to go?"

"Out of the stifling crush of people this one road boasts."

"Okay," she nodded.

As was now her custom, she looped her hand into his arm and allowed him to lead her. They quickly turned away from the most populous areas, wandering into the surrounding city where there were still signs of a large population, but it was the area more for those who worked in the large, bright buildings instead of temporarily inhabited them. They found a small bar and grill where they had dinner, then took to the streets again as the sky above grew darker, though remained starless with the nearby lights.

"Pathetic," he suddenly scoffed.

"What is?" she sighed, trying not to sound annoyed.

"The blatant lies humans will fall for, just because those lies are dressed up as something legitimate."

"What brought this tirade on?"

"The signs on some of the shops," he said, motioning to the mostly darkened strip mall across the street. "They promise things that no one with any sense would believe, and yet you mortals eat it up."

"That's not fair. Many of those businesses prey on those with little means, who are desperate for a fix, even a temporary one, for their situation. Humans do a great job at victimizing each other."

"And it is all done legally."

"Not all the time, but yes, businesses that promise money now without warming that the borrower will be paying it back tenfold are legal."

"And people agree to it because they are too imperceptive to look at the big picture of what they are being offered or what is around them."

"There is much more to it than that..." she protested.

"You fall victim to it as well, my dear. It's part of your nature."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, suddenly cross.

"Would you like a demonstration?"

"Please."

"Have it your way," he said, as a scantily dressed woman passed in front of them. Without warning he reached out and grabbed her, spinning her to look at Hermione, holding a knife he produced out of nowhere to her throat. Hermione responded within a second, drawing her wand, and pointing it at Loki. The girl screamed, but was quickly silenced as Loki put a hand over her mouth.

"Why is your wand out, Hermione?" he asked, almost innocently.

"Because you have a girl at knifepoint," she snapped.

"Do you think I would hurt her?"

"You have to admit you have made points with similar outcomes."

He smirked. "That I have. But why would I hurt this girl? What point would it make?"

"I'm still trying to figure out how this is proving I am imperceptive."

"I'm getting to that. I promise I won't hurt her."

"The knife says different."

"Do you know her?"

"I don't need to know her to know she is in danger right now."

"So you admit you have your wand trained on me because she is in danger?"

"Most people with knives to their throat are," she hissed, and the girl whimpered.

"What is she to you? She is nothing but a whore, heading off to spend some time in a bar, hoping a rich businessman will pay handsomely for the pleasure of fucking her."

"What is she to you? Something to make a point. You are trying to make the point with me, so why is it not my throat you have that knife to?"

"Because my point is about perception. Your wand is trained on me. You are ready to cast a spell the moment this knife moves, because you're not willing to let me harm a woman you do not know. Even though I gave my word I would not hurt her, you still think she is in danger. All your focus is on the threat in front of you, and you ignore the bus full of people behind me who are also in danger."

Her eyes flicked to the bus behind him, and to her shock she could see two men with guns moving about, taking wallets and jewelry. Her mouth fell open, and the girl suddenly let off a sob and stumbled into her arms. She turned back to Loki to find he wasn't there; he had released the girl without harm. Her eyes darted back to the bus where she could see him standing among the passengers. Two quick flashes later both gunmen had disappeared from view.

She quickly cast an _Obliviate_ on the working girl then hurried to the bus. Loki had not killed the gunmen, merely knocked them out, but he now had an entire bus full of scared, confused passengers looking at him.

"I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen," she panted when it became obvious Loki was relishing in the aftermath of the short fight rather than doing something to rectify the situation. "If you give me a moment I'll have everything sorted out."

And she cast an _Immobulus _charm to keep them all in place. Quickly she moved through the group, modifying memories, and then positioning some of the men by the gunmen.

"What are you doing?" Loki asked, sounding curious.

"They are going to remember the men fought back," she murmured. "Instead of a demigod who showed up, cast two spells, and left."

He smirked as she had a woman call the police. She stepped back and surveyed her work.

"Did I miss anything?" she asked.

"No. Your perception in this situation seems adequate."

She opened her mouth to shoot a retort at him, but he suddenly wrapped an arm around her from behind, and she felt a sensation akin to Apparating, though not quite as dizzying. When she looked around again they were a block away from the bus, watching as police officers convened on it, guns drawn.

"They will be fine," he murmured, turning away from the scene and starting to walk back towards the strip, but she quickly caught up with him, grabbing his sleeve, and spinning him to her. Her fierce chocolate eyes met his green, and for a fraction of a second, he felt a surge of desire. He had found the fighter in her, and it was alluring.

"If you hold a knife, or a gun, or any kind of weapon, including your hands, to an innocent human between now and when I leave, I will walk away, Loki," she hissed. "If you harm someone I will do my damnedest to get a message to your family that you don't deserve another chance."

He chuckled at the absurdity of her threat. "You couldn't even if you tried."

"When there's a will, there's a way, and you'll find I'm very strong-willed," she snapped before storming off, Disapparating directly to her room as soon as she was sure she was out of sight of any Muggles.

"That you are," he murmured to thin air before starting to walk home, his mind suddenly troubled. The girl had thrown his mind into further turmoil. He had often thought of how his family would perceive her, and the more he got to know her, the more he was sure he had made the right choice to convince his family. But in the moment their eyes connected something had shifted in him. Suddenly he doubted his decision to give such a hands-on demonstration. And it wasn't because it would no doubt get back to his family. What they would see would be beneficial for him. He had helped the bus load of people, training his sight only on what was giving them danger. The magic might have been a little much, he could easily have taken them down in hand-to-hand fighting, but he had suppressed his magic for so long he used it just to get some of his pent-up energy out. But he had created a mess, and Hermione had to fix things. He would apologize for that, for suddenly he found he cared more about her actual opinion of him than he would be willing to admit aloud. Though he knew he would have to suppress any desire he held for the girl. It would only lead to trouble later, and he blamed it on going too long since his last sexual encounter to even consider having feelings for the little mortal girl.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was so upset by the incident that she refused to see him the next day. When she emerged in the afternoon, the day after, she found him irritable.

"You've come out," he quipped shortly.

"Do you prefer I stay in my room?" she shot back.

"No."

"Fine. Do you have anything more casual?"

"Do I... what?" he asked, confused and caught off-guard by the question.

"Something more casual. You can walk around like that if you want, but we're going out."

"Going out where?"

"I don't know. We're going to wander. We're going to live like the Muggles for the evening and you will watch them. You don't think highly of us mere mortals, but we are important. We have lives, no matter how pathetically short and unfulfilled you find them. You can sit up here in the lap of luxury, with people bringing you whatever you need, but that will never give you compassion for those around you. So wear whatever you want, and meet me out here in an hour."

He stared at her through narrowed eyes, but decided not to fight her, and disappeared into his room. She returned to hers, changing into a sundress, cropped jacket, and sensible flats. When she returned to the living room, he was waiting for her, wearing black slacks and a gray button-up. He tugged at the fabric in distaste, but she thought he looked handsome without looking overdone.

"It itches," he muttered, not looking up.

"I think you look good," she replied.

"I'm glad at least one of us..." he started, but paused when he saw her.

"What?" she said as his eyes ran over her slowly.

"Do not be concerned," he murmured, forcing himself to look away. Hermione had, to that point, been regulated to her professional clothes, or the comfortable, though not flattering, casual clothes she would wear around the suite and occasionally out. But her outfit was different, and it was impossible for him to not notice that the dress clung perfectly to her frame, betraying her soft curves, and put her legs, long and shapely, on display. She had applied a hint of makeup, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She looked utterly feminine and alluring, though a hint of a scar was visible above her breast, reminding him of the secrets hidden underneath.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Don't know," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him from the room. They took the elevator down and walked out onto the strip.

"Left or right?" she asked.

"You don't even have a direction?" he asked, visibly frustrated.

"Left it is, we can catch the outdoor show at Treasure Island," she said, pulling him by the hand to the left. They walked for a while in silence before he spoke up.

"I want to apologize for what happened the other night. I misjudged the situation, and should not have threatened that girl," he said softly.

"Next time, you could try making your point verbally," she replied shortly.

"Duly noted. I am sorry."

"Apology accepted."

In front of them two men had gotten into a fight over some casino chips, two women egging them on.

"This is supposed to convince me to look at humans in a different light?" he sneered.

"Not their bad behavior, obviously, but it is if you look around. People come here, and they become different people. It's liberating, not having a schedule or a boss to answer to, just being able to go out and live a little."

"You do know that is utterly depressing, the thought that they have to ask permission and get away from home to feel free?"

"This from a prince," she rolled her eyes.

"Humans spend most of their lives working for someone else, who hoards the wealth like they can take it with them to the afterlife, while those underneath beg for the scraps."

She looked at him quizzically. "Do you not live a life of luxury on Asgard?"

"I do."

"I don't know why things are done the way they are, but I have yet to see a society that does not have those with more than others. Some have wealth, or power, and others do the work below them, preparing their meals, cleaning their homes, guarding their safety. It's been like that in damn near every society ever. If everyone had an equal voice how would things get done?

"You were briefly king. I assume that position came with guards."

"I've been surrounded by guards nearly my whole life in one fashion or another."

"And they are to lay their lives down in protection of their king?" she prodded.

"Of course," he nodded.

"Do any of them have the chance to actually _be_ king one day? Or to improve their station, perhaps becoming an exalted warrior?"

He thought for a moment. "One would have to show extraordinary ability to be considered anything more and I cannot recall a situation in which that happened."

"So even in your supposedly enlightened society, the role in which one is born into is pretty much their station in life."

"It's much the same here."

"Yes, but life is about the risks, and there can be rewards to taking them. A person can be born poor, and die rich, or the other way around. It's all about how you play your cards in life."

"Not everyone can change their station, you're speaking in ideals," he said dismissively.

"Not everyone can, but anyone can," she replied quickly. "Someone who can't afford shoes as a child can make millions advertizing them as a star athlete. Someone who can barely afford paper can become a writer and sell millions of copies. A humble person can have a billion-dollar idea. We encourage it. We love underdog tales."

"And then you happily watch as their lives fall apart, since not everyone who receives riches knows what to do with them."

"Not everyone does. Some gain riches, and manage them well, or even give them away to those less fortunate."

"And many are greedy. They don't consider any around them."

"I bet that holds true on any realm. There's no need to be the constant pessimist, Loki."

"I would call it realistic. We all have greedy moments."

"We do. But there's a difference between having greedy moments, and living with only greed in your heart."

He studied her for a moment. "You are irritatingly optimistic."

"Someone must counter your pessimism," she said, with a smile.

They arrived at the show and took a spot near the front of the crowd. Loki watched with a passing interest until a couple drunken men started cat-calling at the performers.

"Swine," he murmured.

"They're having fun," she shrugged. "They have no chance with those girls."

"They're giving in to their base desires. Attractive women dancing around and the men pool at their feet. Siren is an apt term," he scoffed, referring to the title of the show.

"What? Has no woman made you pool?" she smirked.

He furrowed his brow and didn't reply.

Her smirk became a smile as she continued, "Falling in love with someone can be a wonderful feeling, but lust can be just as thrilling. There's nothing quite like having that person who can make your brain go numb, who causes that ache in your body for them, who will take you apart in their hands and put you back together even if you're not quite the same."

"Have you found that person?" he asked.

"I've had a few lovers, some have been incredible, but I haven't found someone that I would say I truly loved. You?" she added with a smirk.

He scowled and turned his attention back to the show. When it finished she took his hand and they joined the crowd filing away from the show. She pointed to a food truck, where they got burgers and sat on a bench nearby, eating and watching the people. Loki seemed particularly interested in a young couple nearby, holding each other, oblivious to the world around them.

"Do you want to fall in love?" Hermione asked.

"Do you?" he shot back.

"Of course I do. I can have sex; that part isn't hard, but I want a connection with someone. I do want something that lasts, someone that makes me pine for them when they're gone."

"That sounds nauseatingly romantic."

"Don't tell me you never want it."

"There are many things I want that I'll never get."

"There are nine realms, there's someone out there for you," she smirked, bumping him with her elbow and nodding towards an older woman wearing too much makeup who was lighting one cigarette with the remnants of the last.

He tried to look sternly at her, but started chuckling. "I'll ask her to dinner tomorrow, if you ask him," he said, motioning towards a drunk, heavyset man who had stripped to a Speedo.

She started laughing, and he couldn't stop the smile crossing his face. "Ten at night, and already stumbling drunk," she sighed. "I think I'll just ask you to dinner, instead."

"We've done dinner together nearly every night."

"And I've enjoyed it," she said, standing and throwing her wrapper away. He did the same, taking her hand and starting to walk back towards their hotel.

"You have?" he asked, sounding casual.

"Call me crazy, but I think you're almost a friend."

"Almost?" he raised an eyebrow.

She studied him a moment. "Perhaps you are. I don't know. You're hard to read at times, Loki, and I think friendship is a two-way street."

He studied her for a moment. "Then friendship it is."

"Okay," she smiled. They walked past a street performer singing and strumming a guitar while a few people danced and placed money in his open guitar case. Suddenly she stopped, pulling him back to her. He stood, looking at her in confusion.

"Don't dance on Asgard?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He pulled her close, placing a hand on the small of her back, drawing her body into his as she placed her hand on his shoulder. He took her other hand and began to lead her in a tight dance, mindful of the people around them. The longer they danced, the closer he drew her, until she was barely able to take a step without fear of their legs getting entangled. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in a scent not quite of this world, and closed her eyes. For a brief moment she let herself get lost in the moment, and wondered if, had they met under different circumstances, or were even from the same realm, if she'd let herself fall for him. She looked up into his face, and saw him looking back at her, his captivating eyes lost in thought.

"There's one more place I'd like to go," she whispered.

He nodded once, but their eyes stayed locked. The hand still being held in his started trembling, and the pressure of his fingers against the small of her back increased until it was almost painful. Her heart started pounding in her chest, and her brain cleared of all though save for a debate about what would happen if she kissed him. A smattering of applause as the song stopped provided the distraction they needed, and they tore their eyes away. She dropped some money in the guitar case and started walking, folding her arms over herself. How could she be so foolish? The man, _no,_ she corrected mentally, _the god,_ next to her would never want anything to do with a mere mortal like herself. She was misinterpreting his looks. Even if he did find her interesting, there would be no way he would spare her a second thought when he made it back to Asgard. She'd be a footnote in his history.

He walked next to her, hands clasped behind his back, mind racing. It was their first time walking next to each other without some type of contact between them, and much to his irritation he couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing. He was getting close to the girl, too close, and he had realized as they danced that he was truly starting to care for her. And he couldn't let that happen. With any luck in the next few weeks, he'd be home, and she would be back with her friends. He'd be grateful to her if she helped him return, but he couldn't let himself think that they'd have contact after. They belonged in different places. But as much as he could justify why getting closer to the girl was a horrible idea, he missed the contact between them.

She led them to the replica Eiffel Tower, paid admission, and they wordlessly rode to the top. She went to the side and leaned against the rail, looking out over the city.

"Two hundred years ago this was a desert," she said, eyes focused on where the lights of the city gave to the dark land beyond. He stood next to her, following her gaze. "In two hundred years humans took what would have been wasted land, and not only settled it, grew all this. You may view it as a collision of sin and ill decisions, but you have to marvel at the sheer tenacity it took to build. Two hundred years ago the thought of something like this was impossible. If you had told those people what was going to be built here, that there would be giant flying machines that could bring people in by the hundreds to stay in buildings that tower the size of mountains they'd think you crazy. Imagine what they'll do in the next two hundred years.

"You may not think us as advanced as you. We don't live long lives, most of us don't have magic, and compared to you, we can't fight our way out of a paper bag without the help of machines. But we are a people, and we have evolved in amazing ways. We have done some extraordinary things, and we continue to do so every day. You may not agree with the way we do things, but there is a reason it is done that way. We may be downright primitive compared with some realms, but we've done damn good. And I don't give a damn if you still find us all pathetic. I don't care if you think you'd be able to enslave us all within a week. My point is that we, as a species, have done some monumental things, even if some have been horrible and devastating.

"You have tremendous power, Loki. If you were on the side of the light you could do some amazing things, you would be an astounding ally to anyone you swore allegiance to. I think somewhere inside you want to find someone who will give you reason to pledge your permanent alliance to Asgard or the side of the light. I don't know if there is something your family could do to do that, I don't know if you need more, or less, that's up for you to decide. But I know you want to be with Asgard and your family, or you never would have approached me. You are underestimated, the way you underestimate others. And all that leads is to defeat and humiliation. I would happily fight with you, Loki, if you asked and the cause was worthy. But I would also happily fight against you. It is up to you and what you want, and no one, from myself to your family, can answer that for you."

She paused, turned to look at him. "I think I'm the first person who has seen Loki in a while. Too many see the God of Mischief. It's what you show them. And if that's what you want to keep showing them, go ahead and trick this pathetic little mortal. It's expected of you. But I like Loki. I wouldn't mind if he stayed around."

She placed her hand on his and squeezed his fingers. "Goodnight, Loki. I hope I'll see you in the morning."

She walked off, getting into the elevator just before the doors slid shut and whisked her back to the street. He cloaked himself so no one would notice, and stood in a remote corner, looking out over the city, though his mind was elsewhere. She had, once again, thrown his mind into turmoil. But it was her last sentence which was most telling. It asked a lot of things. Did he really want to return to Asgard on his father's conditions? And who would he be if he returned? Would he go back into his old ways, or would he do his best to be the man Hermione thought he could be?

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

She didn't want to go back to their room, not knowing if Loki was going to be there, and she needed to clear her head. If their night together had been a date she would have said it went smashing, probably even inviting Loki back to her room, which she found she desperately wanted to do. Their dance together had stoked the embers she had worked so hard at putting out, and she knew she wasn't going to make it a night without doing something to relieve the sexual tension built up inside her. She sat on a bench, clutching the sides and trying to think. There were two ways to get sexual relief. The first, take care of herself. An unappealing option, as while she could bring herself to orgasm, she knew that it wasn't going to put the fire as long as the other option, sex, would. The problem with sex was it required a partner, something that she currently lacked. Part of her brain was screaming to summon up her Gryffindor courage and go ask Loki for something, anything, to fulfill her desires for just a night, but she knew she would never be able to look at him again if he laughed at her pathetic human desires and turned her down. No, she would find someone else. She could either travel halfway across the world to shack up with Charlie Weasley again, since he was always up for something with no strings attached. Or there was the attractive guy from the bookstore. She couldn't force herself to like him before, but with a couple drinks 'like' would not be an issue.

She fished in her purse until she found the card with his number. She pulled out her phone and dialed.

"'Lo?" he answered after three rings.

"Hullo. Is this Mark?"

"It is. Hello again, Dr. Hermione Granger," she could hear him smiling on the other end. "How are you?"

"I'm... fine. How are you?"

"I'm good. What's up?"

"Well, I wanted to go out tonight. Maybe go to a club or something. I was wondering if I could get a local's advice on what would be a good spot," she said, not wanting to be the one who asked to meet.

"Were you looking for a little company?"

"I wouldn't say no," she replied, biting her lip.

"I may be able to oblige. Where are you?"

"Standing outside the Paris."

"Awesome. My brother works at the Chateau, so they all know me. Can I meet you there in twenty minutes?"

"Sounds great," she smiled, closing the phone with a pit in her stomach. Part of her wanted to run, but she screwed up her courage and went inside to find a bathroom. There she used her wand to change her clothes, turning the sundress into a sexy black dress, turning her shoes into heeled booties, and changing her simple undergarments into sexy ones. She stood in front of the mirror, added a little makeup, and deemed herself acceptable, returning outside to wait. Twenty five minutes after they talked Mark came running up, apologizing for being late, looking effortlessly amazing.

"Shall we?" he asked, motioning to the door, and not waiting for a reply. He grabbed her hand and led her inside and to the club, where the bouncer waved him in with a few words exchanged between him and Mark. They stopped at the first bar they saw for drinks, and made their way onto the dance floor.

"How much longer are you in Vegas?" he asked as they danced.

"I'm not sure. I don't think I'll be here too much longer," she replied.

"And where are you going after?"

"Back to London."

"Do you live there?"

"Yes. I've lived in that area my whole life."

"I've always wanted to travel over there. When I get a little bit of money, of course. Which isn't going to happen as long as I'm a student."

"What are you studying?"

"I'm going for a dual degree in business administration and hotel administration. I want to work as a manager in one of these hotels one day."

"So you're planning on staying in the area?"

"It's home. You can make money if you play your cards right."

She chuckled. "Is that a joke you use often?"

"I think it's a go-to joke for locals," he smiled.

The conversation lulled, and Hermione was desperate to start it back up before the pit in her stomach convinced her to run. She had to stop thinking of Loki, even if it was only for a few hours. She needed some distraction, but every time there was nothing else to occupy her mind he crept back in and rooted himself there.

"So you said you like the supernatural? What do you find most fascinating?"

"If I tell you, will you think I'm a geek?"

"Not if you don't think I'm odd for finishing those books I bought already."

"All of them?" he asked, sounding impressed.

"I'm a fast reader."

"Okay. Deal. I'm fascinated with magic. I know it sounds insane, but I think that, of all the supernatural things out there, magic is the most fascinating, because I think it's the one that's most likely."

"How did you come to that conclusion?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"It would be the easiest to hide," he shrugged. "Vampires leave bodies. Werewolves leave bodies or maimed victims. Hell, most all supernatural creatures leave bodies. But magic doesn't. I don't believe witches are like the Wicked Witch of the West with green skin and warts. I think if there are witches and wizards out there they'd look exactly like us, and we wouldn't know if we walked right by one."

She smiled, feeling like stringing him along slightly. "Do you think you've ever met a witch or wizard?"

"Oh, no," he shook his head. "I'm not even sure they exist. I just think they'd be the most likely to exist. I would think if they did they'd hide out."

"In magical communities?"

"Sort of like that. I'd imagine if you had magic, there wouldn't be a lot you'd wont for. You could make food and stuff just... poof out of thin air."

"Food seems a bit extreme. I don't think you'd want to eat something you managed to conjure out of whatever is floating in the air."

"What about money? Money would get you food and everything else you need."

"I would think that, if they had magical communities, they'd have their own money that has anti-duplication spells and a way to distinguish true coins from ones you just pulled from the air."

"Would they be limited to their own money?"

"Are you talking about Muggle money?"

"What?"

"Er... just regular currency."

He looked at her then burst out laughing. "What the hell is a Muggle?"

She thought fast, quickly replying, "It's slang in London. It means someone who is out of a specific group or lacks a specific skill. I guess, if we're talking about magical communities, Muggles would be those who don't have magic or are unaware of magic."

"To being Muggles, then," he smiled, clinking his drink against hers. "Another?"

"Let's," she nodded, following him back to the bar. She purposefully steered the conversation away from magic, and after a few more drinks they were dancing close together. Without warning he cautiously leaned forward, kissing her gently. She responded as best she could, but even inebriated she had felt no chemistry. She wanted him to be more aggressive, more demanding, more... like she was sure Loki was.

She threw herself into the kiss as Loki passed her mind, trying to drive him out. He mistook her sudden enthusiasm for excitement, and began to cautiously move his tongue against hers. .

"Should we go back to your room?" he asked.

"No!" she said a little too loudly. The last thing she needed was Loki to know what she was up to, or to laugh at her pathetic attempts to be interested in Mark. He would see right through her.

"I'm staying with a friend," she explained. "I'd prefer privacy."

"My place?"

"Yes," she nodded quickly.

They left the club, his arm around her shoulders, and hailed a taxi. The ride was short; he lived half a mile away from the strip, in an apartment with his good friend, who was sitting with two other men on the couch as they entered.

"Mark... look what the cat dragged in," the friend said.

"Shut up, Beatie. This is Dr. Hermione Granger," Mark replied, a slight slur in his voice.

"Doctor? You're really trading up in the world," another laughed.

"Go ahead and be jealous. Let's go, Hermione," he murmured, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the back of the apartment and into his room. Her stomach dropped as she looked around. Mark's bedroom looked more like a teenager's than a man in his later twenties- movie posters adorned the wall, as did several pictures of scantily clad women. His desk was a mess, his bookshelf had more movies than books, and an entertainment system seemed crammed in.

"Another drink?" he asked, opening a bottle of tequila.

"Please," she nodded, but waited until he had taken his shot before taking hers. Then his lips were back on her and he was slowly drawing her towards the bed. But she needed aggression. She roughly pulled him to her and pulled his shirt off, hoping he'd get the hint, but all that happened was he stumbled, and they fell onto the bed together.

"Sorry," he laughed nervously.

"Don't apologize," she ordered. "I really don't want to hear it."

"Okay," he smiled, kissing her again.

"Come on, Mark," she encouraged, grabbing one of his belt loops and pulling him onto her. "You can be a little more forceful."

"Okay," he said, but he sounded uncomfortable. He kissed her neck, gently, and massaged her breast over her dress, again too gently.

"More," she demanded, using her hand atop his to squeeze her breast hard. "Harder."

He finally took the hint, nipping at the skin over her collarbone and roughly pushing the straps of her dress down, exposing her lacy bra. His hand firmly massaged her breast, finding her nipple under the fabric and giving it a sharp tug.

"Yes," she moaned, her eyes closing and her head falling back.

Emboldened by her response he reached behind her, unfastening the bra and pulling it off. As his hand returned to roll the peak of her one breast his head lowered to the other, his tongue running around the outside of her nipple before flicking it with his tongue. Her eyes stayed screwed shut as an image formed itself in her brain, and it was no longer Mark atop her, but Loki. A surge of heat passed through her as she thought of his green eyes staring at her, filled with lust, and at that moment Mark's teeth gently bit down on her breast.

"Yes, Loki!" she cried out, not realizing what she had said until it slipped from her mouth.

"Loki?" Mark quickly sat up.

"Shit," she said, color flooding her face. "I'm sorry."

"Who is Loki?"

"Just... not you. I'm sorry, I don't think this is a good idea anymore," she murmured, sitting up and pulling her dress up, not bothering to look for where he had thrown her bra.

"Yeah... I guess it's not," he sounded disappointed.

Guilt flooded over her. "This isn't about you," she said. "I shouldn't have led you on like this. I'd say I would see you around, but that would be a lie."

"Yeah, sure," he looked down.

She gathered her bag and left, not stopping until she was out of the apartment and somewhere safe enough to Apparate. It took her a few minutes to compose herself. How could she deny her attraction to the demigod she was staying with after that? And there was no chance of getting him. Their night together had been a mistake. He was not the thoughtful man she had been drawn to that night. He was the God of Mischief and Lies, one who damn near took out a whole realm full of innocents because of his thirst for revenge. Who set up the one who sired him for revenge, then double-crossed and killed him. There had to be some way he could remind her of that aspect, something to make her realize her attraction to him was nothing more than a stupid schoolgirl crush. She went straight to their room at the Bellagio, but was too upset to land in her room, arriving in the entrance hall just as the door opened and Loki walked in.

"Hermione?" he asked, looking at her in concern. He reached out to touch a tear she didn't know was running down her cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Don't do that," she said, batting his hand away.

He looked down at her changed clothes, which were disheveled, a bite mark visible on the top of her breast, and his eyes widened.

"Did someone hurt you?" he growled, and she could swear she felt the magic around him surge.

"No," she said quickly. "Not like that."

"What's going on?"

"Don't worry..." she started, but he grabbed her wrist, backing her against the door of her room.

"If someone hurt you, Hermione, tell me and I will end them," his eyes were flashing.

"No one hurt me," she whispered.

He stared at her a moment. "I'll protect you."

Her breathing became shallow, their proximity impossible to ignore. How did he stoke such desire in her? If she just pushed herself forward she could kiss him. Her body screamed at her to do it, but her hand somehow found the knob to her room.

"I can't..." she started, ducking into her room and closing the door quickly and locking it with a shaking hand. She knew what she had to do next, as much as she wanted to will herself not to. She pulled the dress over her head and fell onto the bed, spreading her legs and pushing aside her knickers. She was wet and ready, so it was easy for her to plunge two fingers inside herself.

"Loki," she moaned softly as her other hand began to twist and pinch the peaks of her breast, and she used her thumb to swirl around her nub as she pulled her fingers out and pushed them back in again. She closed her eyes as she pictured him above her, plunging himself into her quickly, kissing and nipping at her skin. It didn't take long for her body to start to coil in anticipation of her orgasm, and she felt herself tightening around her fingers. She abandoned her breasts, moving her fingers further inside her and using her other hand to frantically circle her nub. Finally she cried out his name again as her orgasm ripped through her. She laid on the bed for a minute, her breath coming back to her as she tried to push what she had just done from her mind, before getting up, stripping off her knickers and shoes, and heading for her shower.

She didn't know Loki was still standing outside the door, struck motionless and silent by what he had just heard. He wanted nothing more than to open the door and go into the room, to confront her, to give her exactly what she obviously wanted, and his hand was on the knob when he heard the shower turn on, and he came out of his trance. He swept into his own room, shutting the door and sinking onto the bed. The knowledge that Hermione wanted him put their already complicated situation into dangerous territory was so tempting, but he would have to resist. Sex would only complicate things. Now it was imperative that he finish what he approached her to do, get back into Asgard, and remove himself from temptation before he found himself tangled in the same web of emotions his brother was currently caught in.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning she emerged from her room early to find breakfast on the table and Loki reading a book. She couldn't help but flush as he looked at her out the corner of his eye, and she hurried over to eat the sausage, eggs, and pancakes waiting for her. When she was done she started clearing her plate and made to go back into her room, but stopped and turned towards him.

"I have somewhere I'm going today," she said, then automatically added, "You're welcome to come with if you'd like."

"Where would we be going?" he asked, concerned it would be another day of talking and being close to each other. Normally, he would not think that was a bad thing, but after the night before, he was not sure how much more contact he could tolerate before giving in to his desires.

"Somewhere I've been going for a couple years, just a get-together with friends. I haven't been in the last couple weeks, because I've been spending time with you, but I really want to go."

"You are being deliberately vague," he accused.

"Perhaps I am. If you want to go bring something you can exercise in. We'll leave at ten."

She didn't give him a chance to reply or ask more questions before disappearing into her room. He considered it for a while then went into his room. Of course he hadn't brought anything to exercise in, but a little work quickly fixed that. At ten until ten he went to wait in the living room, a bag containing his new clothes sitting at his feet. At five til, she emerged from her room, wearing a tight pair of shorts and a sports bra, her hair pulled tightly back, a bag slung over her shoulder. She couldn't help but notice his eyes wandering over her several times, and she fought the blush to pretend not to notice.

"What is that?" he asked suddenly, pointing at her arm.

"That?" she asked, twisting her forearm so the scars that read 'mudblood' were clearly visible.

"I haven't seen those before," he said, and she could hear anger in his voice.

"I usually cover them up. But I don't where I'm going. I must have forgot to put the charm back on after I dressed."

"How did you get it?" he asked evenly, though she never remembered his green eyes so alight.

"When I was tortured at Malfoy Manor."

"The book left that part out."

"Most people don't know. I don't put them on display. I tried to get rid of them, but the knife was cursed or something. They won't go away."

"Was that Bellatrix?"

"Yes."

"And Bellatrix is dead?" his eyes shot up to meet hers, and there was something mad and terrifying behind them.

"Yes. Molly Weasley killed her," she whispered.

"Good," he murmured. "The other scar on your chest, is that the one from your fight at the Ministry?"

"It is," she said slowly. "The man who gave me it is also dead."

"That's less than either of them deserve."

Their eyes locked again, and she realized there was a hint of protectiveness hidden in their depths, a look she knew well from Harry. But she wasn't willing to ask, so she shouldered her bag.

"Are you coming?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied quickly.

"Good. The Apparation will be a lot easier with you doing it. I would have to take two or three jumps, which would be exhausting and it won't do for me to be tired when I get there. Or I would have to make a Portkey, which the Ministry controls and I didn't fill out paperwork."

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Here," she said, handing him a piece of paper.

"Romania?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Just try to be precise."

He scoffed, wrapping an arm around her and bringing her to the exact location. It looked to be an abandoned building outside a dark, sparsely populated village, but he had enough contact with her magical world to know there was probably more than met the eye. She hurried to the door and knocked three times. A couple seconds later, the door opened, and a muscular man with long red hair and a fair number of scars pulled her inside, holding her tightly to him. She quickly threw her arms around him, and Loki scowled. Their embrace was not of only friends, but of two people who knew each other intimately. He wasn't sure if his instant dislike of the man was jealously, or irritation with himself for feeling that jealousy.

"Hermione! I didn't think you were coming. We haven't seen you in almost a month. Did you finish your job in Las Vegas?" the man said.

"I brought the job with me," she said, kissing his cheek before stepping away from him. "Charlie, I'd like you to meet Loki."

"Nice to meet you, mate," Charlie held out a hand, and Loki shook it a little harder than he needed, feeling quite pleased as Charlie shook the pain out as he withdrew his hand.

"Pleasure," he murmured.

"Reminds me of Snape," Charlie murmured under his breath. "Did you bring your entrance fee?"

"Right here," she smiled, digging into her bag and withdrawing two bottles of liquor.

"Excellent. One for each, I'm assuming?"

"Of course. I know the rules. I don't know if he'll participate, but I'd rather have it here in case he does."

"Good. Come on in, we're warming up."

"Excellent. Come on, Loki," she said, taking his hand and pulling him past the debris-filled front room into a large back room. The center of the room was dominated by a large, raised platform surrounded by multi-colored ropes, the type of ring he occasionally saw used for wrestling or boxing. Crammed into every other area of the room was workout equipment, punching bags, weights, machines; everything one might expect in a gym that trained fighters. Somewhere an old CD player was filling the room with angry-sounding songs sung by men with gravely voices. With their arrival there were six men and Hermione in the room.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"After the war I realized that while I can easily fight with a wand, I'm rubbish if I find myself unarmed. I knew Charlie could fight, he has to stay in shape with the work he does with dragons, and I asked if he had any pointers. He invited me here. I can come work out any time I want, but every Thursday night those of us who are free meet and spar. The price of admission is a bottle of whatever liquor we fancy. If you get pinned, you must take a shot."

"Do you ever get out of here sober?"

"None of us do unless we stop ourselves because we have something important to do in the morning. Luckily Charlie lives upstairs. Most nights I spend up there."

He felt his jaw tighten, noting she didn't specify the couch or anywhere else. With the intimate embrace they had shared as they arrived, he was sure that several of those drunken nights had ended together in bed. He immediately wanted to challenge Charlie, to show Hermione he was better, but that seemed a very rash thing to do, and the reminder that he would be acting like his brother quickly dissuaded him. Hermione would not be impressed by him defeating her friend and sometimes lover; she would be more impressed by him refraining from indulging that particular temptation. There would be time to impress her, he was sure of it, if he would wait for just the right moment.

"First match, Granger?" Charlie asked.

"Second. I'm not sparring without properly warming up again," she said, heading toward some equipment. Loki followed her.

"What are the rules?" Loki asked as two more men, Sven and Russell, entered the ring.

"No magic," she said as a bell sounded the start of the fight. "Purely Muggle fighting style. We try for no head shots, no one wants their pretty face messed up any more than it already is. A pin is both shoulders on the ground for the count of three. No one fights two fights in a row. Side bets are okay, if agreed upon before entering the ring. Challenge whomever you like. Were you thinking of fighting?"

"Perhaps."

"Then try to keep any sort of super powers to a minimum. It wouldn't be fair, nor fun, for you to pin someone every three seconds."

"I'll try to remember," he smirked, holding the bag as she started punching. Within ten minutes she was warmed up, and the first spar ended. Russell took a long pull off a bottle and sat on a bench to catch his breath. Another man tossed him a container of something he began to dab on his wounds, healing them quickly.

"Let's go, Granger," Charlie called, climbing into the ring.

"Hold my wand, please," Hermione said, handing it to Loki. He stared at the bit of wood in surprise, it seemed to be humming happily in his hand, and he debated trying a bit of magic, but decided he'd rather watch Hermione fight.

She hoisted herself easily into the ring. Charlie might not be a tall man, but he was still a head taller and had at least seventy pounds on Hermione. Loki doubted she would last long, but he was surprised. She was a defensive fighter, striking only when Charlie came at her, but when she did strike it was quick and it was on point. Charlie came at her several times, breaking a sweat, and Hermione would strike him a few times, only taking a couple blows herself, as Charlie began to pant. As he came at her the ninth time it happened. She hit him several times around the torso then knocked his legs from under him with a well-placed kick. Before he could react, she was on top of him, her knees pinning his shoulders to the ground as someone happily counted off three. Loki smiled appreciatively. He had underestimated the girl, she might seem non-threatening, but she was a fighter. If only she had been born on Asgard.

"Nice fight," she said, standing up and holding a hand out and helping Charlie up.

"I fall for it every time, Granger. I don't have the patience to wait for you to hit first," Charlie chuckled, jumping out of the ring and turning to help her down. She poured a shot down his throat with a laugh. Loki watched, a plan formulating in his mind as he watched her dab something from a bottle onto her bloodied knuckles, closing the wounds immediately.

"Is there a place I can change?" he asked Charlie.

"Yeah, back there, door on the right," he smiled, pointing. As soon as Loki had disappeared, he turned to Hermione, offering her a water bottle.

"Where'd you dig that one up, kitten?" Charlie asked as soon as Loki was out of earshot.

"Loki? He dug me up," she said, toweling off.

"What's his story?"

"I am invoking the little-used rule of you can't tell a soul."

"You have my word," he chuckled, moving with her away from the prying ears of the group.

"He's exactly who your brain thinks he is when you hear his name," she said softly.

"That's a demigod?" his eyes shot up, looking at the changing room.

"Keep it down," she hissed. "Yes, he is. I knew you would know. He sought me out, wants me to go to a different realm..."

"Asgard?"

She smiled. Charlie loved all sorts of mythology, so his knowledge didn't surprise her. "Yes. He wants me to go there and help him get out of banishment."

He laughed. "How's that going?"

She bit her lip to contain her smile before replying. "Surprisingly well," she said casually, suddenly interested in the fight happening in the ring. "He drives me mad at times, but that's just who he is. Most of the time we get along well. I'd say we're becoming friends, and I'm almost ready to go help him."

Charlie was giving her a funny look.

"What?"

"How close of friends are you becoming?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"What does that mean?" she asked defensively.

"Kitten, you turned down something serious with me because the distance between here and England was too much. Here and a different realm is much farther."

"We're not in a relationship," she scoffed and shook her head.

"Whatever you say. I know you, kitten. I know that look."

"If that's what you think, Charlie," she grumbled. "If I remember distance wasn't the only reason we weren't together. I seem to remember a rather long-winded lecture one Christmas about why marriage is not the path you're willing to go down."

"Hermione, a girl like you could make any man re-think his life path."

"A girl like me can't even turn a head."

He looked up and shook his head. "You've turned the head of a god, Hermione."

She opened her mouth to protest, but looked up at the changing room and caught Loki's eye as he exited wearing an outfit of a material she couldn't identify, though it looked reminiscent of armor. While not skin-tight it clung to his frame better than even his tailored suits, and she could see his muscles moving, giving even his slight frame an intimidating air. But his eyes were locked on hers, and there was something deep, something almost lustful in his gaze. Her heart started pounding faster and her breathing became heavier as their gazes stayed locked.

"Oh, yeah, kitten, you sure look like you're disinterested," Charlie laughed and clapped her on the back. "And you're up. Darren says he owes you for last time."

"Oh. Right," she murmured, and she climbed back into the ring, though she didn't seem to be able to tear her eyes away from Loki. Was she imagining the look? Was her secret desire for him manifesting itself, trying to force her to think he felt the same? Or, did she dare to think it? Did he want her the way she wanted him?

She was so distracted she didn't notice Darren's fist until it sank into her stomach.

Doubled over she sank to the ground. Darren quickly flipped her onto her back, holding her there with both hands. She strained against his hold, but she couldn't get her shoulders off the ground. Suddenly she heard Loki's voice in her ear.

"Fight, Hermione," he growled.

She folded herself double, catching Darren around the chest with her legs and pushing hard. He toppled off her, and she immediately took the offensive, something she never did before. She punched him several times in the ribs before he pushed her off him hard enough she rolled twice before pulling herself up. She lunged at him again, catching him around the middle, and landing a solid punch to his side. It knocked him off balance, and he toppled sideways, taking her with him, until they came to rest with him on his back and her sitting atop him. Quickly she grabbed his wrists and held him down.

"From what I heard from Weasley this is a pretty good position to have you in," Darren chuckled, though he winced as he tried to move, a trickle of blood trailing down his shoulder.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. I guess that makes him a cad," she replied.

"What are the chances of me getting you in this position, Hermione?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows as someone called time. She quickly climbed off, and didn't offer to help him up.

"What would your wife think about you talking about me like that?" she asked.

"She's agreed not to talk about it. You're my free pass."

"Free pass?" she asked, letting Loki help her from the ring.

"The one person I could fuck outside my marriage without having Marie beat the shit out of me. She gets one, I get one. Hers is just a fantasy; she doesn't know I work out with my free pass."

Hermione was giving him a disgusted look. Suddenly he burst out laughing.

"You're drinking, Hermione," he laughed, taking his own shot.

"Damn right, I am. Trying to get that image out of my head," she grumbled, grabbing her bottle, opening it, and taking a long swig.

"And why did you have to drink?" Loki asked as Darren walked away.

"We also try to render each other speechless. Manage to do so and the other one drinks."

"I was wondering how you managed to get drunk, since you seem so adept at besting all the men here."

"Most the men here have a similar fighting style..." she started to stay, but she was cut off by a voice from behind.

"I want to fight the new guy," a deep voice announced, and Hermione groaned. She and Loki turned to the ring in unison. The man challenging Loki was built like Charlie, but was at least six inches taller than the Weasley brother.

"That's Thorbjorn," she whispered. "A good friend of Charlie's, and also a complete arse in the ring. He wins more than anyone here, and takes it very seriously."

"Does he go by Thor, perhaps?" Loki asked softly with a malicious smirk.

"How did you guess?" she rolled her eyes.

"Are you coming?" Thorbjorn asked. "Or would you prefer I get my sister to fight you?"

"Go easy on him, and make it quick, please, Loki," she urged under her breath.

"Only because you asked nicely, milady," he replied, stepping forward. She watched as he agilely pulled himself up into the ring, standing casually with his hands behind his back.

"Whenever you are ready," he said calmly, nodding to Thorbjorn.

"One minute?" Charlie asked as he came to stand next to Hermione.

"Ten seconds," she said, shaking her head. "Thor is suffering from an unfortunate first name at the moment."

Someone signaled the start of the fight. Thorbjorn came at Loki quickly, going to punch him in the stomach. At the last second Loki sidestepped him, and in a lightning-fast motion grabbed Thorbjorn by the shirt, lifting him up and turning him mid-air, slamming him onto his back and holding him to the mat, where he lay, writhing in pain from the hit. Loki stood, placing a foot on Thorbjorn's chest near his neck, effectively pinning him.

"My brother, like you, is quite arrogant and condescending when he wants to challenge someone. Unfortunately for you, you lack the strength and reflexes he has to back up his words," he murmured before the count of three, when he strode out of the ring. Not even a hair was out of place.

"Drink up," Hermione murmured to Charlie before taking a drink herself.

"Weren't expecting that?" Charlie asked before taking a swig.

"That was exactly what I was expecting. I had rather hoped the sibling rivalry thing had been lessened as of late, but I guess he'll always have a bit of that."

"Centuries old-rivalries don't disappear in a night."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think I managed to help Malfoy get over his dislike of Mudbloods thing in a night," she said, biting her lip to contain her smile.

He raised an eyebrow, looking shocked. "Really? You and Draco?"

"I don't remember saying _Draco_ Malfoy."

Charlie looked at her in surprise then took a drink without being called on his silence before walking off to challenge Russell.

"Quick enough for you, Hermione?" Loki asked as he came to stand next to her.

"Yes," she murmured.

He leaned close to her, so his lips were nearly touching her ear. "Normally I prefer my activities to go much longer," he whispered.

She looked at him, feeling a flush creeping across her face as a rush of heat surged through her body and settled below her waist.

"I do believe you must now drink," he said, pressing her bottle into her hand.

"Damn," she murmured before taking a double.

"Don't drink too much. I plan on challenging you next."

"There are a lot of things I do better after a few drinks," she said with a wink before taking a drink. "Something about lowered inhibitions."

He cocked and eyebrow and reached out to take the bottle from her hand, draining it.

"Does that even affect you?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip.

"Not nearly how it affects you, but enough of it would give me a similar impact."

"That's good to know."

He watched Charlie in the ring for a moment. "Shall we place a side wager on our fight?" he asked softly.

She considered him for a moment before asking, "What were you thinking?"

"I win, you teach me a bit about your wand."

"Really?"

"I think it has potential, and it is so much more portable and easily maneuvered than most conventional weapons. Plus you are able to do magic I cannot."

"Which I'm sure has been troubling you."

"It has been playing on my mind," he chuckled.

She thought for a moment then nodded. "Okay. If I win, you answer three questions. No matter what I ask."

"You have been asking questions for weeks, and I hardly think you restrained yourself."

"True, but this will be more personal. They may make even you uncomfortable."

He considered her a moment before nodding. "Sounds fair," he said softly.

"And it counts as a win for me if you use any of your super-human strength or speed."

"Agreed."

Five minutes later they were facing off. Hermione's heart was racing, her body fighting off the calming effects of the alcohol. She knew Loki had a similar defensive fighting style, that each would happily let the other make the first move. She also knew that catching him by surprise would be difficult, if not impossible.

"I think you and I may be having similar thoughts," Loki said, taking a step towards her.

"I'm flattered that you think so highly of my fighting abilities," she replied, taking a step to the side, heading towards his right.

"I would not underestimate you, Hermione. It seems too many have made that mistake."

"I'm ready when you are."

"Very well," he said, lunging forward. She skillfully ducked his first two strikes, managing to knee him in the side at the same time his fist made contact with her upper arm. She cried out and stumbled backwards, but quickly maneuvered into a defensive stance. Loki was coming after her again, and this time she lunged for him, knocking him backwards, but he managed to grab her leg long enough for her to stumble forward into the ropes. She quickly righted herself, turned, and saw Loki waiting for her. She lunged at him again, drawing her fist back, meaning to hit him in his less-guarded left side, but her fist passed right through him, her body quickly following.

"I thought I told you no magic!" she said, turning quickly to find him calling his copy back.

"Sorry," he smirked, clearly not. "Did you expect more from me?"

"No," she said, and he suddenly moved. She turned to try to catch him, but he grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back and clamping his other arm around her front. Adrenaline surged through her as she anticipated the pin, and in her desperation she knew the only way out would be to best the trickster.

"Too bad that copy isn't solid," she murmured. "Think of the ways you could thrill a girl if it was."

His grip slackened with his surprise at her words, and she managed to swing her elbow into his ribs. He let her go and she quickly turned to face him, finding a playful smirk on his face. He came at her again, this time his hand closed around her wrist a little too tightly, the other arm coming around her waist to hold her to him.

"Tell me, Hermione," he asked, eyes alight. "Have you ever participated in that particular thrill?"

"No," she replied. "Not that I haven't thought about it. You?" she asked with a playful smile.

"Haven't had the pleasure."

"Think about the sounds that would come out of a girl having two men giving her attention. Don't get me wrong, I prefer men, but there's nothing quite like the noise that comes out of a woman when you touch her just right."

She gave him a hard shove, and he fell backwards, though she later was sure he fell on purpose. She fell on top of him, hands gripping his shoulders, one leg between his.

"Have you made a woman make such a noise?" he asked with a chuckle. Before she had a chance to answer she found herself pinned to the mat with him above her. He lowered his face to hers, and her heart was pounding hard enough she barely heard his words.

"You certainly made some interesting noises the other night," he murmured.

She gasped; eyes wide. "You heard..."

"I wonder what noises you'll make when it's not just in your mind?"

His lips caught hers as she let out another gasp of surprise. She pushed herself into him, wrapping her hands in the unknown fabric, and pulling him down to her, desperate for him to keep the contact, afraid of what would happen when there was distance between them.

Cat-calls brought them back to the world around them. Loki growled as she turned away, her face rapidly turning red. She tried to push him off her, but he refused to move, and suddenly she felt his weight pressing into her.

"Oh, no, Hermione," he purred into her ear. "I am not done with you yet."

And before she could protest, she felt herself slipping away from the gym as seamlessly as if she had simply slid through the mat. Another room came into existence around her, she was on the large bed of their room in the Bellagio, but by the orientation of the rooms she knew it was his. That was her last thought before his lips found hers again. Oh, was he demanding, not giving her a moment to catch her breath or even let a thought about the situation pass. Not that she wanted to think about it. Thinking only complicated things, and they would have plenty to think about later. In that moment all they needed was relief of whatever had been simmering between them, what had been threatening to boil over since their dance together.

His lips strayed from hers, coming roughly to her neck as he forced her head up with a hand, holding it in place as he kissed, sucked and nipped at her sensitive spots. She found herself short of breath as her fingers raked against his skin and she wrapped a leg around his, rubbing herself against him unabashedly, desperate for relief for the ache between her legs.

Soon his lips moved further down her body, and strong hands came up to rip the battered sports bra off. He found one breast as his hand trailed from her neck down to the other. She moaned as his tongue flicked against her already hardened peak, and she wrapped a hand in his hair to hold him to her. It was torture, how long he spent at her breast while she willed him to give her something more, anything more, and yet he still took his time, switching his mouth and hand as she writhed beneath him. In an effort to get more, she moved a hand between them, running her fingers over his hard length still sheathed in the mysterious fabric. She felt him chuckle, then push into her touch.

"You are impatient," he murmured, abandoning her breasts and kissing lower on her stomach.

"It's been too long," she panted. "I've wanted this... wanted you..."

"You are becoming incoherent, my dear."

"Damn you, Loki," she growled.

He chuckled and tugged at the waistband of her shorts. She lifted her hips to help him pull the fabric off, casting it aside before running a hand over her thighs and her knickers.

"Aren't you just full of surprise markings today?" he chuckled, running his fingers over a tattoo on her hip.

"A Phoenix," she explained.

"Born from fire, the fire inside you," he murmured, his fingers sweeping over the fabric over her sweetest spot, causing her to moan in anticipation.

"So warm," he murmured. "So ready. You are quite responsive, are you not?"

"Please," she groaned, thrusting herself up to him.

"Again with the impatience," he smirked, slipping the knickers down and off her body. He slid a hand between her legs, running a finger through her slick folds to her nub. She hissed her pleasure at the contact, bucking against him.

"Very responsive," he repeated, sliding a finger into her, eliciting another moan. "You are so tight, so ready to have someone buried inside you."

"You should stop talking and get to it," she growled.

"What is it you want, Hermione?" he asked, curling a finger against her core.

"You," she cried out.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me!" she cried as his thumb found her nub and began circling it.

"Such language coming from a mouth as well versed and delicious as yours."

"Loki," she groaned, pressing to him as she felt something coil inside her. "Please," she begged.

A second finger slipped inside her and with a little more pressure on her nub, he sent her over the edge, clamping around his fingers, her nails scraping along his skin as she cried out with her orgasm. Slowly he withdrew his fingers from her, and she whimpered in protest. She watched as he climbed off the bed, stripping his clothes off himself. She couldn't help but stare, he had a lean, muscular frame that looked as though it had never been harmed, let alone seen battle. She let her eyes wander down, and saw him erect, thick and ridged, and she couldn't stop a whimper of desire escaping her lips. She slid to the edge of the bed, reaching out and taking hold of him, moving her hand over his length before wrapping her hand around it and working him up and down. He let off a soft grunt of approval. She leaned forward and flicked her tongue across his tip. He responded by reaching out and winding a firm hand into her hair. She took him in her mouth, wrapping her hand around what she couldn't take, and moving them together. He closed his eyes and began murmuring words in a language she didn't recognize. Encouraged she moved faster, taking a little more each time each time. She hummed as she worked him, and he drew in a sharp breath. Suddenly his hand tightened in her hair and he pulled her off him.

"Lay back on the bed," he ordered.

She quickly complied, settling on the pillow, her legs parted in anticipation. He settled between them, positioning himself at her opening.

"Look at me, Hermione," he ordered.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. Slowly he slid himself into her, and her fists tightened, but she would not look away as he pushed himself all the way in, stretching her perfectly.

"Sweet Merlin, you feel so good," she whispered.

"You feel delectable. A man could easily lose himself in you," he murmured as he pulled out, then drove himself back in. She wrapped her legs around his torso and lifted her hips in time with his thrusts, drawing him further into her. When his motions sped, she finally broke eye contact, her head dropping back in a loud moan. He lowered himself down to kiss her neck, suckling the sensitive skin as his thrusts came quicker. She ran her fingers across his back, leaving scratches across his pale skin.

"More, Loki, please," she moaned.

"Are you insatiable, Hermione?" he murmured against her skin.

"You fit me perfectly. I can't get enough of you," she replied with a cry as he began moving faster, holding her hip with one hand to prevent her moving against him.

"Then I shall give you your fill," he whispered, and the hand holding her down slipped between them, dexterous fingers finding her nub and starting to circle it furiously. She began to feel herself tightening again, clutching him to her as her breath became ragged in anticipation of release.

"Come, my Hermione," he encouraged. "I want to feel you tighten around me, want to hear you cry out as you come apart in my arms."

"Yes," she moaned, arching her back into him. She felt her body start to clamp around him, though he did not slow his movements, and his fingers worked her, driving her towards her release. Her whole body tightened, pushing his name from her mouth with what felt like the last of the air in her lungs. Finally the tension released as her orgasm washed over her, slamming her back onto the bed as she began to pant, hoping breath would return to her. His hand went back to her hip as his thrusts became increasingly frantic before he shuddered, and spilled himself inside of her.

They looked into each other's eyes as the gravity of their actions sank in. Carefully he withdrew from her and lay next to her, looking at her, wordlessly asking if she was going to leave him, or stay in his bed. In response she moved closer to him, wrapping her nude form around his side, and using his shoulder as a pillow.

"You are amazing," she whispered, lightly kissing his cheek, and he turned to look at her.

"As are you," he smiled at her. "You were right. The noises you make are addicting."

She wanted to ask what this meant for them, if it changed anything, if it had any possibility of becoming a permanent thing, but she was too afraid of the answers. She slowly came down from the moment, replaying every second of their day together in her head, when something occurred to her. She moved so she was sitting astride him, hand running over his bare chest, hopefully lessening the tension of what she was about to ask of him.

"I do believe I get to ask you three questions. Anything at all," she said.

"In case your memory has abandoned you, it was I who pinned you in the end."

"Ah, but you used your magic when you made that copy. You broke the rules."

"You did not include magic in our side bet. You only specified strength and speed."

"You used both. You may have tried to hide it, but I could see it."

"Will your pestering know no bounds?"

"No. So you might as well let me ask you."

"Go ahead, then," he smiled, placing his hands on her hips, allowing his thumbs to draw circles on her skin.

"When you told Thor you didn't want the throne, were you lying?"

He looked up at her, studying her face. "No. I wasn't. I wanted to prove to them that I am as good as Thor. Not as a warrior, obviously, but there are qualities to a leader that are not dependent on one's brute strength and show of force. They may not be as valued in Asgard, but they are still important."

"Then why destroy Johtunheim?"

"Remember I had just found out the truth of my origin. It was a tumultuous time, and I had no time to process everything that went on. At that point, I was thinking only of revenge, on a father who cast me out because he was ashamed of my size, leading me to live a life of lies where I could never truly know why I was never the favored son despite Thor's recklessness and arrogance. Destroying Johtunheim would serve two purposes, show Father that I was an equal, and destroy the one who made me and cast me aside."

"Then why send the Destroyer to Earth? Thor wasn't going anywhere without you, and even if he did, what damage could he do you at that point?"

"He proved himself through that battle, did he not? He earned his power back, earned his place in Asgard back. Came back to glory. How would he have done it had I not sent the Destroyer? "

"Why did you lie to Thor? Why visit him here at all?"

"I could not have executed my plan the way I had hoped if he was meddling. That way I got to slay Laufey myself."

"Was killing him yourself that important to you?"

His eyes sought hers, and she realized he looked vulnerable for the first time since she met him. "Yes," he whispered.

She bent down to kiss him, and he held her to him.

"That was five questions. I believe the agreement was only for three," he sounded pleasant again.

"I'm sorry," she smiled. "Is there something you'd like to ask me to make up for it?"

"Yes. Were you really planning on going with Harry to confront Voldemort in that forest?"

"Of course," she replied confidently. "I was ready to go with him to die."

"Why? With so much left undone, why would you waste your life like that?" there was a hint of condescension in his tone that made her immediately want to go defensive, but she took a breath and thought for a long moment before she answered.

"Love is a very powerful magic that we could study for your lifetime and not even scratch the surface," she replied softly. "Harry had something very dark in him. He loved us all, and was willing to sacrifice himself to protect us. And I love him. I thought perhaps, if we died together, my love for him would protect him from the dark inside him, and our love for those we fought with would protect them. Yes, we would both die, but we have been on a journey together since we were first years. I thought he should have someone with him in the waiting room when it was time to move to the next great adventure."

"Such selflessness," he murmured, running a hand over her face. "And yet you ignore the adoration that your actions bring you."

"I don't want adoration for fighting. My contributions should not be exalted over those who gave so much more."

"But you deserve recognition. Even those who were mere fighters deserve recognition. But it's so easy to give that recognition to a select few who stood out or lead."

"Do you not feel recognition, Loki?"

"Why? Because I am only called upon when someone has gotten our realm into a mess, but no one wants things to escalate to war over it? Loki, your brother has been careless with his heart; go fetch the Enchantress to get him over it. Loki, the workman is going to complete his task in the supposedly impossible time frame we gave him; go distract his steed so we no longer have to give him what we promised. Always their pawn, and constantly blamed for the mistakes of those around me. My brother is rightly banished for starting a war, and everyone begs to get him back. I've been banished for less, and no one speaks a word in my defense, but they'll be happy to call for me if they need my magic or my trickery. And why should it be any different? Father brought me to Asgard to be a pawn, something to use when dealing with the man who left me to die, as if time would make things different, make Laufey want to do right by the son he abandoned. It would follow the rest of my life would be nothing more than a pawn in others games. My methods may not be as direct or open as those around me, but even if I get the results they are hoping for, they hush it up or dismiss it as another round of my mischief. I cannot present my ideas in a direct fashion, no one takes me seriously if I make a suggestion to the group, but if I convince someone to make the suggestion it is listened to, and often acted upon, without any acknowledgment of where the idea came from, because no good can come from the ideas and plans of the God of Mischief and Lies."

She bent to kiss him slowly. "It's wrong of them to not give you appreciation for the times you have helped."

"But you have that appreciation, and you turn your back on it."

"I do not. I'm glad people recognize my contributions to the war effort. But do I think I should be a celebrity because of them? Not at all. I try to make a name for myself beyond being part of the Golden Trio and I can't tell if it's because of who I am or because of my work. And this Golden Trio thing ignores the work and sacrifices of the others who fought. Why is Neville not giving speaking tours? Why isn't Luna on the cover of magazines? Why did I have to fight for two years to get Severus Snape a bloody Order of Merlin when I got mine two weeks after the battle? Harry, Ron, and I may have done a lot, but we'd be dead if we were on our own."

"If I had half your humility I'd probably still be in Asgard," he chuckled.

"Speaking of which, I... I think I'm ready to go."

He looked up at her in surprise. "You are?"

"Yes. It's time."

He slipped his hand between them, finding her wet and warm. "It's not time quite yet," he smirked, guiding himself inside her.


	6. Chapter 6

As she slowly woke up, she became aware that there was someone pressed into her from behind. It took her a minute for the memories of the night before to come crashing over her, but when they did, she couldn't help but smile. At the slightest indication that she was awake, Loki's hands started roaming over her, squeezing and tweaking her breasts as she moaned and pressed back into him. They had gone several times the night before, and there was a delightful ache between her legs she didn't mind provoking a little more. She reached a hand behind her, running her fingers though his hair and arching her back to give him better access to her breasts.

"You really are insatiable, aren't you?" he murmured in her ear before kissing her neck, kissing the love-bites he had left the night before and leaving fresh ones on her soft skin.

"I can be, when my lover is just as insatiable as I," she replied, pushing her bum back against his body.

"You will not find me complaining about the situation," he murmured, hand running down her stomach to her folds, circling her nub a few times before slipping inside her.

"Already so wet and ready." She could hear the smirk in his voice. "You are hungry for more this morning, aren't you?"

"Yes," she replied, grinding herself against him again. "And still too tired to think of retorts. So please, just give me what I want, Loki."

"Very well, then," he murmured, and she drew her legs up slightly and he guided himself into her. She moaned contentedly, placing a hand on his leg to draw him as deep into her as she could get him. His hand moved between her breasts and her nub, playing with each until he began to feel his orgasm approaching. When he found her nub again and began to circle it, increasing the pressure as she whispered encouragements until he felt her clamp around him and they finished together. He took her in his arms, resting his head on her shoulder, as they came down in silence.

"Do you still want to go today?" he asked.

"I'm as ready as I'm going to be," she replied, turning her head to kiss him.

He studied her face, and knew they should be having a talk that had nothing to do with Asgard. What did their intimacies mean? What did each expect from the other? Would they have a possibility of continuing if she did help him earn his place back? But he couldn't bring himself to ask. He didn't want to know if she saw him as nothing more than another in a string of short-term lovers.

"What do you need to do before we go?"

"I'm going to go out and get a dress, and probably get my hair, nails, and makeup done. I don't want to walk into Asgard looking like a mess. When do you think we should leave?"

"Of course it'll be after you are ready. And I think it would be best for me to at least appear contrite, and not bring you into the throne room with no warning. I think it would be best to leave from where the Bifrost would gather us if it were functional, give Heimdall some warning, so he can let my family know I'm returning with you. The area is not populated, but I do think we should wait until cover of darkness. Shall we aim for midnight?"

"Midnight sounds good," she nodded, unable to keep the nerves from her voice.

"Are you leaving now?"

She looked at the clock, which was reading just before noon. "Let's order lunch, and you can tell me a bit of what I can expect when we get there so I'm not totally off guard. I should know if there's any customs or the like I should observe, the last thing I need to do is offend your family straight away. After lunch I'll do my shopping, and start to get ready."

"Okay," he nodded.

"I'm going to shower. If you could order lunch, I'd appreciate it."

"I will."

"Thanks," she murmured, kissing him quickly before climbing out of bed. She slid from the bed and walked from the room still nude, and he watched her go appreciatively. How he wanted to keep her, to make her his, but there were so many problems, and he had enough to worry about that day.

They had lunch together, and she absorbed what he told her about Asgard. After she excused herself to go shopping and get ready. She took dinner in her room without letting him see her, and he was waiting in the living room, wearing his Asgardian armor and holding his helmet when she finally appeared.

His breath caught as she entered. Every inch of her looked exquisite, made up without looking over or underdone, hair perfectly in place, delicate jewels hanging from her neck and ears. She was wearing a plum-colored gown with a beaded overlay that gave the impression that the dress itself was radiating light. On her feet were tall shoes, meant to draw him closer to his height so she wouldn't seem so small to those around in when she was in Asgard.

"Do I look okay?" she asked, turning so he could see everything.

"Radiant, my dear," he replied, reaching a hand out to her, drawing her closer, and kissing the back of her fingers.

"You know, if I were a lesser woman, I'd make a joke about being horny right now," she said with a smirk, pointing at his helmet.

"Then I will be grateful you are not a lesser woman."

She suddenly looked concerned. "Do you think they'll take me seriously?"

"They would be fools not to," he drew her closer, wrapping an arm around her. "We have one stop to make before we depart."

"Where?"

"We need to get a gift for my brother," he said with a mischievous smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jane and Darcy were sitting atop the lab, a fire going, Jane scanning the skies in the hopes that something, anything, would indicate that he would be returning. Darcy had long gotten used to this behavior, though she was starting to doubt if Thor was going to keep his promise to return. She didn't want to be the one to bring it up with Jane. And so she didn't watch the skies as often, afraid of taking up Jane's nasty habit of studying every blink or odd movement above them. Instead she had picked up a habit of scanning the street below for something interesting to distract her friend.

And that's when she saw them, moving out of the dark on the empty, sleeping street of the town; though she was sure they had simply stepped out of no where. The girl would be out of place anywhere but in high society, but the man would be out of place anywhere on Earth. Tall and lank, wearing armor reminiscent of what she saw on the warriors, carrying a golden helmet. The woman clung to his arm as she looked around curiously, and there was no doubt in Darcy's mind who they were seeking out.

"Jane," she said, drawing her friend's gaze from the sky. "Know that one?"

Jane looked down at the two, who were rapidly approaching the lab. "No, but I'm about to."

They hurried down the stairs, coming to the door just as the two people arrived.

"Can I help you?" Jane asked after wrenching open the door.

"Good evening," the man said, sounding annoyed.

"Good evening," Jane shot back. "Now, can I help you?"

"You are quite the little spitfire, aren't you?" he said, studying her. "Now I see why my brother finds favor in you."

"Loki," she gasped, and she backed up several steps. Darcy did the same, drawing her taser.

"There will be no need for that," Loki sighed, waving his hand and sending the weapon across the room.

"Loki," the woman behind him hissed.

"I came here to talk, nothing more, Hermione. I would prefer not to be assaulted."

"Just play nice. There's no need for dramatics."

A smile fluttered across his face as he shook his head. "I came to tell you, Jane, that my brother and I should be returning to the desert sometime in the next few hours. I thought, perhaps, the information would be of interest to you."

"Why are you coming back to the desert?" Jane asked, sounding confused and cautious.

"He has a job to do. However, my brother does have a tendency to put off his jobs in favor of other pursuits," he said, putting his helmet on. "Farewell, Jane, Darcy," he nodded, taking Hermione's hand and leading her from the lab.

"Did you really have to refer to her as a 'gift' in my presence?" Hermione sighed.

"You denied me the chance to rile you today."

"I'm sorry if we were too busy for that."

"I shall make amends for my transgression."

"You'd better," she murmured before they disappeared.

"I smell a trap," Darcy said quickly.

"I'm going," Jane announced, hurrying for her truck keys.

"I hadn't hoped to think you wouldn't."

"You can stay here."

"Not a chance," she said, putting on a hat and following Jane to the truck.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They landed just outside a large, intricately-designed circle that looked completely misplaced in the middle of the dessert.

"I hope you've warned them, Heimdall," Loki was calling to the sky.

Hermione's stomach dropped, and she took a few shaky breaths.

"Are you alright?" Loki asked.

"Maybe. I don't know," she shuffled from one foot to the other. "Let's face it, if they aren't happy with us showing up, there's nothing I can do to save myself. I don't know if my magic will be enough."

He reached out and pulled her to him. "I will not let anything happen to you. You have my word on that. Understand?"

"Yes," she murmured.

He looked skyward for a moment, as if checking something, then whispered into her hair. "If you feel threatened, hide on the topmost rooftop. You should be able to get there with magic. I've been up there many times; no one thinks to search for someone there. If you hide there, I will collect you and bring you back here."

"And if something happens to you?"

"Ask for mother: Frigga. She'll listen to you. I doubt they'll have any qualms with you, if anything you are just another of my victims."

She nodded. He placed a hand under her chin and lifted her face to his. "I have faith in you, Hermione. You are going to do well."

She nodded nervously, and he softly pressed his lips to hers.

"It's time. Hold tight, this will probably be odd, even though you're used to Apparation."

He took her in his arms, and she pressed herself tightly to him and squeezed her eyes shut. There was a sensation like she never felt, not quite Apparation but close, and her feet hit something solid. She opened her eyes and stepped away from him, looking down at what she was standing on. It must be the Rainbow Bridge. The colors seemed to be shifting with her movement. She looked up at him, a million questions on her lips, but she was struck dumb when she saw someone near them. A tall, dark-skinned man with the most captivating eyes was watching them closely.

"Loki," he said without moving from his post.

"Heimdall," Loki said softly. "The gatekeeper. Heimdall, this is..."

"Hermione Granger," Heimdall finished. "I watched your battle. You were quite brave."

"Thank you," she flushed.

"Come, Hermione," Loki murmured, taking her arm and turning her. She gasped as she saw Asgard before her. He let her take it in, her eyes alight with excitement as they swept back and forth, taking in everything from the sea below them to the crystal clear view of the skies above.

"I could sit here and look at this all day," she muttered in awe.

"You could, but I think we'll have visitors long before that," he said, offering her an arm and leading her towards the gate. Before they made it halfway the gate opened, and five riders, with two bare horses, came through. Loki stopped, standing tall.

"Get ready to meet my brother and his cohorts," he said softly.

Hermione drew herself as tall as she could, felt the fold of her dress where her wand was hidden for reassurance, and waited. It wasn't long before the horses were pulling up, and the riders disembarking. She didn't need Loki to tell her which was Thor. He was in front, tall and assured. Three men and a woman were behind him, hanging back as Thor approached them.

"Brother," he said, sounding somewhere between welcoming and threatening.

"Brother," Loki replied softly, a hint of venom in his voice.

"That did not take you long."

"I was lucky to find exactly what I was looking for quite quickly. May I present Lady Hermione Granger?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Hermione said with a curtsey, though she didn't break eye contact.

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Granger," he smiled, taking her hand and kissing her fingers.

Hermione flushed, and Loki let off a soft, irritated noise.

"Father and mother are waiting for you," Thor said to Loki, motioning to the riderless horses. "Can the girl ride?"

"Perhaps you should ask her yourself. I do not speak for her," Loki replied, both brothers staring at each other, tension growing thick between them.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Sif said, immediately breaking the tension, and causing the brothers to look around. Hermione had already walked to one of the horses, and with Volstagg's help was hoisting herself on to ride side-saddle.

"Are you going to be alright?" Loki asked.

"The last animal I rode was a dragon I flew across a bloody country. I think I can ride a horse to a castle," she replied.

"A dragon, my lady?" Thor smiled up at her. "Where did you get one of those?"

"I could say I liberated it, but I should just tell the truth. I stole it from where it was being kept locked in a bank a mile or so under London."

"You stole a dragon from a bank?" Hogun asked, sounding impressed.

"It's not like I went in there thinking I was going to ride a dragon out. But when walking was taken away as an option, I had to get out somehow. There just so happened to be a security dragon there, and we rode it out of the bank and across the country."

"I like her already," Sif smiled, mounting her own horse.

"Keep up, milady," Loki said, hoisting himself onto the horse next to Hermione's.

"Won't be a problem," she replied, taking the reins and turning the horse to follow Sif, taking off at top speed. People watched as they passed, pointed at Hermione and Loki, and called to each other in words she couldn't catch as they sped by. She looked around as much as she could, taking in the splendor of it all, though concentrating on not looking as overwhelmed as she felt. Too soon they pulled the horses to a stop, and Loki was there, reaching up to take her waist and help her down.

"Stay next to me," she whispered.

"As long as I can," he replied softly.

She took his arm and they walked through the castle to the Hall of Asgard. She stiffened as they paused at the entrance, and let the Warriors Three, Sif, and Thor go ahead.

"They will not harm you," he assured her.

"It is a rather grandiose display for someone who poses little threat."

"This is for me, though there is an aspect of intimidation. Your first test will be if you run."

"These shoes are awful for running," she said, drawing herself up and taking a deep breath.

He smiled. "They are showing me I have not yet earned my place back and I have not earned their trust," he said as a line of guards formed on either side. "As soon as I'm gone they'll seem much less hostile. You are just a mortal. Hardly a threat. Please try not to use your wand against them unless you feel your life is in danger."

"I don't think it would help."

"It would help more than you know. Your magic is different than ours. In some ways less, but in some ways greater and more terrible."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," she murmured, straightening her gown.

"Come," he murmured, holding a hand up for hers. She placed hers atop his, and he led her into the hall, through the two lines of guards, and approached the steps leading to the throne where Odin sat, Frigga nearby watching Hermione's every move. There he fell to one knee, fist over his heart, as Hermione curtseyed low.

"You have returned, Loki," Odin observed, trying to sound impassive, but Hermione could hear a hint of hope in his voice.

Loki looked up at him. "You gave me a condition for return, and said I could return upon completion of that task. One human, willing to stand up here, and sincerely champion my return. I present Hermione Granger, who is willing to do such a thing."

"Step forward, Lady Granger," he ordered.

She shot a look at Loki before rising and stepping to the bottom of the stairs.

"Are you here of your own choice, Lady Granger?"

"Yes, your highness," she replied with as much courage as she could muster.

He stepped forward and looked into her eyes.

"How are you finding Asgard?"

She was speechless for a moment, struck by the innocence of the question. "Honestly? I'm feeling intimidated. To put it bluntly, it's the second most terrifying place I've ever been."

"Second?" he asked as Thor leaned in to better hear her response.

"The first being Malfoy Manor. There I was quite sure I was going to die."

"Explain," Thor said, but Odin shot him a look.

"I will, if you indulge me, sir."

"Go ahead," Odin nodded.

"I was a prisoner. I was unarmed. I was the least valuable of the three valuable prisoners who had been brought in, so I knew I would be targeted. I was handed to a woman known for her sadism, and had a werewolf who hungered for my flesh in every sense of that phrase nearby. I was not terrified by my impending death. I had hoped it came rather quickly, before I had a chance to betray my friends, but not so quickly that they'd have a chance to interrogate one of them the way they were interrogating me," she finished, flicking her arm out as the 'Mudblood' scars suddenly became visible.

"That is a story I would like to hear."

"I'll tell you, and anything else you want to know; whatever it takes to get him home."

Odin studied her face.

"Loki. You know what must happen now," he said, turning to his son.

"I've already prepared for it," Loki replied.

"Good. Thor, take him."

Thor, the Warriors Three, and Sif quickly surrounded Loki, who smiled at Hermione and followed his brother out of the Hall.

"We will start when they depart," Odin said to Hermione, moving back to the throne.

"Perhaps somewhere quieter would suit the girl," Frigga suggested.

Odin considered that for a moment then motioned for them to follow him. He went into the banquet room, where Hermione looked out over the expanse of Asgard.

"Are you still intimidated?" Frigga asked.

"I don't think there will be a time when I am here that I am not," Hermione replied. "It is a difficult situation to get used to, especially when I know I'm here fighting for... championing someone who has done so much wrong. The very air here..." she stopped, taking a breath, searching for the right words.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes. I was merely going to mention I can feel the magic in the air here, better than I can anywhere else."

"You can feel the magic?"

"Haven't I mentioned?" she looked up, and pulled her wand from its hiding place. "I am a witch. I have magic. Much like Loki, though he assures me that it's fundamentally different. But it has to have a commonality if he can use his on Earth and I can feel it here."

"Does your magic work here?" Odin asked.

"May I try?"

"Go ahead."

Hermione stepped to the table, twirling her wand above it, and a large bouquet of white roses in a frosted glass vase appeared.

"You created this? From nothing?" Odin murmured, fingering one of the flowers.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you using magic to sustain it?"

"No, sir. If no one touches them they will remain there forever. Or, at least, until the roses wilt and die, which should take a while. I like having flowers around; I don't like changing them out every few days, so those roses should last a few years at least in that state. If I were to die tomorrow they'd still be there, though there are exceptions to that rule; certain spells and such that will lift upon the death of the caster."

"I think it would be safe for you to proceed. I would like to hear your story. Starting with your magic."

"Whatever I can tell you to convince you," she nodded.

"Why do you care so much about Loki?" Frigga asked.

Hermione looked at her, but quickly looked away. "He has grown on me since I first met him. I daresay I'd count him among one of my closest friends now. If you refuse to take him back, I will happily host him until he finds someone you feel you can trust better than I."

"Let's hear your story, and we can decide about the trust," Odin said, standing before her.

Hermione took a deep breath. "If you want to hear about my magic, I must start when I was eleven..."


	7. Chapter 7

They landed the same place Hermione and Loki had departed from, and immediately Sif and the Warriors Three jumped away from Loki as if he burned them. They looked around suspiciously, then back at him. Loki smirked at them as Thor came to stand by his side, looking down at him.

"Do you honestly think I was going to do something incredibly idiotic surrounded by the five of you while a woman whose reputation I care about is on Asgard advocating my return?" he asked.

"We never know what to expect from you," Sif spat.

"Why do you care for her reputation, brother?" Thor asked.

"It would be poor form for me not to. You don't know what it took me to convince her to go. It wasn't something I managed overnight," Loki replied.

"You must be losing your touch," Volstagg quipped.

"Or she is strong willed, and it took much for me to get her to trust me enough to even consider championing my cause. Was not one of the conditions of my return that she prove her sincerity?"

"And how did you tell her to do that?"

"I didn't. I didn't even warn her about that part."

Thor studied him for a moment. "I believe you."

"Surprising."

"Not so much. I asked Heimdall about you a couple times. He told me about the girl."

"Hermione," he corrected automatically.

Thor studied him again, though this time more closely. Loki swallowed and looked straight ahead.

"My friends," Thor turned to the warriors. "Fan out. Make sure there's nothing in the area."

They nodded in unison and started walking away in the four different directions.

"You accused me of becoming soft after returning to Earth. You blamed it on Jane. It seems you may have come down with the same affliction, dear brother," he said softly to Loki when the others were out of earshot.

"I would hardly call it an affliction."

"What would you call it then?"

Loki's jaw tightened. "Amusement," he forced out.

"You did not like saying that, did you?"

"It didn't bother me one way or the other."

The corner of Thor's mouth tugged upwards. "You are trying to lie to me, and you don't like it. Because you care for Lady Granger's reputation. It's why you don't like me referring to her so impersonally. You, too, have gotten soft here."

"Did Father tell you to interrogate me while you were supposed to be guarding me?"

"Father did not. I'm merely asking as a concerned brother."

"Then know your place, and stay out of mine," he snapped, turning away, hoping to end the conversation, but Thor was quickly by his side again.

"Do you want to return to Asgard?"

"An increasingly common question with the same answer: I have gone through an extraordinary amount of trouble for something everyone is unsure I really want."

"You could stay for her."

"No."

"Or you could come back. You move so seamlessly in between realms..."

"It's so simple in your mind, is it not?" he snarled. "I would think you, with your infatuation with that woman, have thought about the limitations of having her. Are you going to watch her wither? Watch her grow old and die in just a few years?"

"Father can help..."

"He will help you!" he hissed between his teeth. "You are the favored son, you always have been. He will not help me. I have done too much against him for him to consider doing that for me."

"Are you so sure?"

"I am never sure of anything. Being sure of something leads one to make stupid, arrogant mistakes."

"You are lying again."

Loki's face twitched.

"You want the girl, sorry, Lady Granger. Something about her got under your skin and planted itself there, I know, it happened to me as well. You and I are in the same boat, brother. Stuck between duties to our homeland, and our desires here on Midgard. I tore myself from her, I have you to thank for that. And I should thank you. Without your trickery, I would still be mortal and stuck here. I would not have realized how unprepared I was to be king."

"Imagine what your life would be like had I any chance of being a trusted and beloved king such as Father," he forced a smile. "If no one had defied me to return to you."

"We both have things we must do on Asgard. I must continue to work to prove myself ready to be king, you wish to re-establish yourself, and I hope become my most trusted adviser. Neither of us can keep coming down here and chase our hearts."

"You are making my point so eloquently," he scoffed dismissively. "Having such an... interest on Midgard will only distract and derail our pursuits on Asgard. Therefore, we should have no such interests. _Either_ of us."

Thor's face fell into seriousness. "Father feels guilt over what happened with you. He thinks if he had been upfront with you perhaps things would have gone much differently. I don't think he'd deny you happiness right now."

"I think letting me back is more than I can hope from him," he said evenly, then looked to the east. "Ah, good. A distraction from this meddlesome conversation."

"Thor!" Sif cried, pointing at a rising cloud of dust. Moments later, Jane's truck came into view.

"How did she...?" Thor looked at Loki, who shrugged.

"I told you I would visit her myself. It may have been under different circumstances, but I kept my word."

"Come back!" Thor called to the warriors, so he didn't leave Loki unguarded, and he started jogging towards the truck.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione finished her story, from when she found she was a witch, straight through to her time with Loki, including why she felt he was being truthful with her and why she chose to advocate for him, with a stifled yawn.

"Would you like a seat, Lady Granger?" Frigga asked as Odin looked pensive.

"Forgive me, but I'm afraid if I rest now, I'll fall asleep," Hermione replied.

"Some food, then?" she said, motioning in a girl carrying a platter of cheese, bread, and meat.

"Oh, thank you," Hermione sighed, trying to eat in as dignified a manner as possible, though as quickly as she could.

"Did Loki tell you that we would be asking you to prove your sincerity?" Odin asked her softly.

She swallowed what was in her mouth as her brain replayed their conversations. "No. Is there a specific way how?"

"No. You must devise one yourself."

"I will have to think about that for a while."

"Would you like a place to rest while you think?"

"Yes. Nothing is occurring to me right now, though my brain has been running somewhat on autopilot for a while."

"Autopilot?" Frigga asked.

"I know the story by heart, and I can recite it without thinking. But had you been asking many questions I may have tumbled into incoherency."

"Come. I have a place you can rest."

Hermione curtseyed to Odin, who bowed back despite looking lost in thought. She followed Frigga from the room, through the castle, until Frigga pushed open a door and stepped aside for her.

"Loki's chambers," she announced. "I doubt he would mind you using it for a while."

"Thank you."

"Is there anything else you need?" she said, touching Hermione's arm lightly.

"No," she shook her head and smiled. "You have been extremely kind, and I must thank you again."

She smiled knowingly. "I'll leave you. There will be a guard outside your door. Summon him when you're ready for us."

"I will," she curtseyed, and walked inside as Frigga closed the door behind her. Loki's chambers looked sparsely used though uniquely him, a large bed made up perfectly in green and black linens. A table covered in papers, books, and a few artifacts. A couple weapons hung on the walls. One wall with a verandah, overlooking the Rainbow Bridge. Looking more closely, she noticed that things weren't as pristine here as in the rest of the castle. Loki, for whatever reason, had left scorch marks or gouges in most of the walls and furniture, nothing major, but noticeable when she looked. Most of these were low down, something it would be hard for him to achieve at his height. It looked as though he, when he was a young boy, practiced magic and fighting in his room without thought as to doing damage, and hadn't fixed it or allowed anyone else to do repairs. Slowly she sat on the bed, running her fingers over it, wondering if it felt so comfortable because she was so tired, or because it really was that welcoming. She laid back on it, burying her face in the pillow until she caught a hint of his scent, and quickly fell asleep.

Her dreams came rapidly, and mostly involved failing her mission. But for some reason Dumbledore was there, encouraging her to use her thoughts, and she jerked herself awake when she realized what he was trying to tell her. She was still tired, but adrenaline was coursing through her, and she knew sleeping again wasn't an option. Quickly she looked around the room, and saw a dented and discarded shield in a corner. She got out her wand and summoned it, dropping to the floor where she was and getting to work. Quickly the shield was turned into a shallow bowl that she polished to a mirror finish, and she got to work carving the runes she needed on the side, hoping the whole time her memory was serving her correctly. When the bowl lifted itself off the ground she knew she had gotten it right, and let off a whoop of approval. Carefully taking the bowl by the sides she crossed the room, but upon catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror and realizing her hair was turning into a mess she pulled the pins that were attempting to tame her mane out and pulled it back, not wanting to wait any longer. She pulled open the door to the chamber to find the guard, tall and intimidating, standing outside.

"I'm ready to see them again, if you could take me, please," she said.

"Yes, Lady Granger," the guard nodded, and motioned for her to follow him. He took her back to the banquet hall, and she waited as he retrieved Odin and Frigga.

"You want my sincerity, and this is the best way I can display it, by showing you exactly why I'm here. This is called a Pensieve. I can put my memories into it, and we can all watch them together. Instead of you relying on my word that something was said between us, you can witness it, and the surrounding circumstances."

"This is extraordinary," Odin said, running a hand around the bowl.

"With your permission, I'll start filling it with memories."

"You may begin."

She touched her wand to her head, drawing out a silver wisp of a memory and carefully depositing it into the Pensieve. She did this several times, until they were swirling together like storm clouds.

"All you must do is bend over, and let your nose touch the surface. It'll take you in," Hermione told them before demonstrating. A few seconds later they were all standing together in the room where Hermione first met Loki.

"I'm not going to waste your time with a lot of repetition of what I've already told you about. Instead, I'd like to show you the progression of our relationship, and hope you will realize that I am not here to help out Loki, God of Mischief. I'm here to help out Loki, my friend."

Odin and Frigga nodded, and watched Hermione's carefully choreographed memories. She showed how they met, how she agreed to help him, and her reaction to hearing all his misdeeds. Then there were snippets of late-night talks, laughing over dinner conversation, teasing each other over something supposedly minor. She showed them the bus incident, and the night out. Frigga watched the last memory carefully, as if something was dawning on her. As memory-Hermione and Loki danced to the street performer she looked at Hermione, who looked away and flushed. Finally they watched a bit of their time in the gym together, before he challenged her to the fight, though the camaraderie was evident between them.

"You do seem to have grown on my son," Odin remarked as they arrived back in the banquet hall.

"He has grown on me. He has some remarkable ideas, some we really should explore. For instance, he thinks there is the potential for him to learn wand magic. That could be remarkable, but it will be different because his magic is different than mine. But there are things I can do that he can't. He told me there are rumors of an object that can control people's minds, I have that power, right here," she said, patting her wand. "I would have to cast multiple spells for a group, but any witch or wizard with the proper motivation can cast that curse. Our magics are similar, but fundamentally different, and I think he would like the opportunity to explore.

"I think much of what he's done, sir, is in response to feeling undervalued."

"He is my son, and I have always treated him as such."

"Does he see it that way, sir?" she asked, her voice rising.

"He has..."

"Are you so sure?" she interrupted, and before he could reply she was touching her wand to her head again, pulling out another memory. "This one, we will not be entering. The circumstances under which it was said were personal, and I feel like I'm violating both our privacy showing it to you, but you need to see it."

She tapped the surface of the Pensieve with her wand, and it began to swirl until Loki's image emerged. Only his head was well-defined, though if one paid enough attention they would see his shoulders and chest were bare.

_"Will your pestering know no bounds?" _the image said with a smile.

_ "No. So you might as well let me ask you." _her disembodied voice replied.

_ "Go ahead, then."_

_ "When you told Thor you didn't want the throne, were you lying?"_

Odin watched as the image of his son bared his soul for her, with all the emotions that came from that night. Frigga listened, but her eyes were on Hermione. And this time Hermione didn't look away. Instead she looked back, biting her lip, her eyes filled with emotion that changed as Loki's words filled the room. And then she felt an expression cross her face, one she couldn't identify nor replicate if she tried. And Frigga nodded at her, just once, not much, but a nod and a soft, welcoming smile.

"I have hurt my son," Odin said as the memory abruptly cut off, falling back into the swirling group in the Pensieve.

"If I may be so bold, you have done more than that. You hid his true origins from him, though you admitted to him that you were hoping he would help bring a permanent peace. It would have to come out sometime. And how did you expect to use him in that sense? Do you think Laufey would have been swayed by how well you cared for the son he left to die?"

"You don't understand..."

"No. I don't. I don't understand how you have treated him the way you have, and expect him to grow up any different than how he has. You made your preference clear to him from a young age, he knew Thor would be the one becoming king, no matter how many times you said something that might give him hope it was different. Thor, who has what Asgard values, strength and power, a fighting ability second to none. How was Loki to compete with that?"

Her voice became higher and more confident the more she was allowed to go on. "Do you know what I see when I see your son? A young man, starved for attention and acceptance. It's well known that boys and young men who want attention, any kind of attention, will act out in order to get it, and they will cling onto anyone willing to give them positive attention. He is drawn to me, because I relish in what he can share with me; the stories and the knowledge. Just that very interest has kept him patient with me and save for that bus, he has stayed on my good side. He wants to please me. He indulges what he thinks are asinine ideas just to make me happy. And he does that for you as well, even if you don't see it. He is like the house-elves I work with. They will do as they are asked, wanting nothing more than to please their Master, even if there are consequences for them.

"You call for him when you need a trickster, with no care as to how his reputation may suffer, because it's already in the mud. And he does what you ask, because deep down he is like most sons. He would do anything to make his father happy, even if he gets no respect because of what he's been asked to do in the past. Would you have thought twice about punishing them if the Warriors Three, Sif, and Heimdall defied your orders? But within days, hours even, of Loki taking the throne, a position he was thrust into with no warning during a time he probably didn't need the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, they all showed him defiance. Within days all three of them had gone against his orders. Yes, those orders were mad, but Loki was half crazed with what was going on, enraged by the truth of his heritage that he discovered when Thor nearly got them all killed. It was no time for him to be put in that position, and I'm not surprised he tricked Laufey so he could kill him himself. In his mind, he was doing right by you as well as himself. And instead of talking to him about it, having an open and honest conversation, he is banished yet again. Because, in your mind, an effective parenting strategy is to kick your son out when he's done wrong and give him what you think is an impossible task to keep him away for a while. At least, until you need him again.

"You say you hurt your son, I say you've done damage that will take centuries to repair, if it ever is!" she finished, venom in her voice, fists clenched.

Odin stared at her in shock. A young human woman, speaking to him so bluntly and passionately in defense of his son. He wanted to shout back, to defend himself, but the words would not come.

"You have some harsh words for me, girl," he said finally.

"Do not hold my insolence against Loki. His only sin right now is picking a woman who gets behind her causes a little too passionately at times."

"I must speak to Frigga, and you will have our answer shortly. I will call them back. Please wait in the Hall of Asgard."

"Gladly," she said, spinning on heel and marching from the room with her head held high.

It took her a few minutes to find the Hall again, but she was determined to do so without asking for help, and eventually she stumbled into the large room. There were only a few guards who watched her as she stomped past, out onto the terrace, as she hoped to catch a glimpse of them returning. Time passed, and her stomach began to sink.

"Hermione?" Loki's voice called from behind her, and she turned and rushed to him.

"I messed up," she confessed.

"What?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her.

"I yelled at your father."

"You... you yelled at him?"

"He let me get worked up over something, and I just couldn't stop. I'm so sorry, I think he's going to rule against you, and it's all my fault. I let you down," she whispered, tears falling onto his armor.

"You could not let me down in this, even if I'm unwelcome," he murmured. "You do not know what it means that you did this."

"Loki," Thor called, and they turned to face him. "It's time."

Hermione conjured up a handkerchief and cleaned herself up as well as she could before taking Loki's arm with a shaky hand, and letting him lead her back in front of the throne. The dual lines of guards were back, and Hermione's heart sank, knowing it wasn't a good sign.

"Loki Odinson," Odin started, and Hermione straightened a little. At least he was claiming Loki as his.

"You have chosen your advocate well," Odin continued. "Lady Granger has been passionate in defense of you, and has proven that she is here of her own desire. You have fulfilled the terms we set forth when we banished you.

"Lady Granger, will you swear in front of these witnesses that your testimony was truthful?"

"I swear," she replied loudly and confidently.

"Do you affirm that Loki admitted all his prior misdeeds to you before you came to your decision?"

"I do."

"Do you believe that he wants to make the changes necessary to be a citizen of Asgard again?"

"I would trust him with my life, and you should as well," her words echoed from behind the throne.

"Then, Loki, I restore your place in this realm, and will take Lady Granger's advice to let you study their magic and how it may help keep Asgard and the peace in the future. I bid you also work with me, as I work with Thor, to prepare you to be his adviser when it is time for him to ascend to the throne. Does this please you?"

"It does, Father," Loki replied.

"Good. You are dismissed, with my thanks, Lady Granger."

Hermione watched as Odin and Frigga retired, with the Warriors and Sif not far behind. Thor smiled and nodded at the two of them before leaving.

"Loki, I..." Hermione said, turning to him.

"Not here," he whispered, and he ushered her out of the castle, pulling her by the wrist to a secluded spot hidden by some of the tall walls.

"Did you mean what you said?" he demanded.

"Do you think I say things lightly?" she snapped back.

"So you trust me?"

"You haven't given me reason not to."

He studied for a long moment. "Don't move," he ordered in a silken voice. He turned to leave, and she turned to watch him go. Without warning he rounded on her, putting his hand on her jaw and forcing her head back to face front. "I told you not to move," he murmured in her ear, sending a shudder down her spine.

"I can't even look around?"

He chuckled as though something about what she asked were amusing. "No. Don't move," he demanded one more time before letting his fingers run down her neck, then shoulders, and finally her arm before he turned and walked away.

The urge to defy him shot through her as his footfalls moved away from her, but for some reason she stayed rooted to the spot, head facing forward. As she stood, she wondered why she was listening to the order. What power did the God of Mischief have over her? What was the compelling reason, other than she needed him to get her home, to obey him?

Without warning, a strip of silken fabric covered her eyes, binding behind her head.

"What the hell, Loki?" she cried, not needing to hear him to know that it was his doing.

"This is nothing, if you trust me," his voice came from behind her.

She nodded, her nerves coming alight, skin anticipating some sort of contact, which came moments later as she felt him, the skin of his cheek and neck meeting her skin, pressing into her from behind as his arms wrapped around her waist. Involuntarily she leaned back into him, needing more contact, and his arms embraced her a little more tightly. Without warning there was the sudden feeling of Apparation, and a nauseating sense of disorientation hit her. Reflexively she held a hand out, trying to feel something, anything, to give her a clue as to where she was. And, as suddenly as it had started, the feeling stopped, but there was something wrong. She could no longer feel him, and her feet were sitting at the edge of something, though she couldn't tell what. If she rocked forward she would fall, so she rocked back onto her heels, hitting something hard behind her. She wrapped her arms around whatever it was. It felt like metal, either side jutted out to meet her hands from a thick, sturdy center, and she knew it was an I-beam favored in new building construction. The wind whipped around her, lifting her dress a few inches and letting it fall before twisting the fabric around her legs, then untwisting it and repeating the process. Far below her she could hear traffic, angry honks, and shouted conversations. The smell of a busy city was so thick she could taste it on her tongue.

"Loki?" she called in a shaky voice.

In response she felt something drawing her wand out of the pocket. She made a mad swipe for it, terrified of not having it if she tumbled off her precipice, but her hand closed around air. She tried to feel her way into Apparation, but found she couldn't move.

"Do you trust I would let no harm befall you, Hermione?" she heard Loki ask from somewhere in front of her.

"Fall is an apt word at the moment," she replied in a shaky voice, clinging to the metal beam behind her.

She heard him softly chuckle. "Answer the question, please, my dear."

She took a few deep breaths. "Yes," she replied.

"All the senses at your disposal tell you that you are in a dangerous position. Is your brain not telling you that even the slightest movement could send you plummeting?"

"Of course it is. But you asked for my trust, and I am giving it to you. You said you wouldn't let me get hurt, and I will hold you to that."

"Why do you put your trust in those you should not? Do you think it wise to trust the God of Mischief and Lies?"

"I think it wise to trust my friend," she replied confidently. "As I thought it wise to defend you to your family."

"Do you think I consider myself indebted to you for your advocacy?"

"You have done more for me in the weeks I have known you than my friends have in the last few years. You talk to me as an individual and not an ideal. You impart wisdom on me without forcing unsolicited advice. You are the one person who has encouraged my pursuits and not tried to force me into a box of your own design. And you have earned my trust."

There was a long pause. "Take a step forward," he ordered.

She hesitated.

"I will not let any harm come to you. But I do not need to hear someone spouting their trust in me who will not back it up. Step forward, if you truly trust me."

Slowly she let go of the beam and, taking a deep breath, let her right foot fall into the space in front of her beam. But the drop she was expecting never happened. Instead her foot landed on something soft, like plush carpeting. Strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her into his body so she had no choice but to press herself against him. She sensed his face near hers and moved hers to look at his, though she couldn't see him. Her heart was pounding against her chest and in that she realized what made her more nervous: that he would kiss her, or that he wouldn't. Their prior night together could easily be dismissed as being lost in the moment and influenced by alcohol, the next morning as still lost in the haze of their split-second decision. But now, with both of sound mind and nothing more that had to pass between them, a kiss would be a declaration that something deeper had happened between them, that their one night wasn't just for fun, and that they'd have a very serious decision they'd have to make, one that wouldn't be necessary if they refrained from any further intimate contact.

His lips met hers, hesitantly at first, but he quickly pressed into her, deepening the kiss. She clung to him, though in the back of her mind she wondered if it would be, if it could be, their last contact. Her fingers traced the exquisite fabric, up his lithe frame, over his cool skin and wound into his long locks. She inhaled deeply, and the scent caused a wave of lust to wash over her. His hands were running cautiously over her, as though he hadn't had the pleasure before, slipping down the bare skin of her back and arms, leaving goose pimples in their wake, causing her to shudder and press herself further into him. Oh, he knew how to torture her, kissing her long enough she wasn't sure if he was going to relieve the fire growing in her abdomen for him. She tried to give him a hint, tried to fumble with the clasps on his armor, but he grabbed her hands, holding them firmly for a long moment before guiding them back around his neck. She tried to break away to protest, but without warning his fingers found the zipper on the side of her dress, and he lowered it until it was loose enough that gravity took over and the fabric fell to the floor. It was an entirely new sensation, standing there in only her knickers, stockings, and shoes. He drew away from her, and she couldn't contain a flush as she felt his eyes running over her body. The smallest swish of fabric indicated he had moved when his arms were suddenly on her, one behind her back and one under her legs, effortlessly lifting her into his arms. His lips found hers once more before he deposited her on a soft bed.

She made to take off the blindfold, but he drew her hand away.

"Not yet, Hermione," his voice murmured in her ear as he pressed into her from above.

"But I want to see you, Loki," she replied in a husky whisper.

"You will, just not yet. Trust me."

She nodded, dropping her hand as his lips found every inch of flesh he could reach on her neck, nuzzling, kissing, sucking, and occasionally nipping. Without the benefit of seeing him, she was forced to concentrate on the feeling, his lips on her skin, his hand running over her, his cool skin pressed against her warm, the soft tickle of a lock of his hair as it fell haphazardly onto her and trailed his mouth. It was delightfully maddening, how slow he was going, how he could draw desire out of her and yet not give into her whimpers and pleas for more.

She let off a moan as his lips finally found her erect nipple. She wantonly arched into his touch, verbally and non-verbally begging for more. He chuckled, but did not stop lavishing her with attention, taking his time with each breast as he took his time enjoying her taste and relishing in the sounds he elicited from her. She groaned in protest as his lips left her breasts, but a rush of excitement quickly overtook her as his lips began to move lower, over her stomach and down to the top of her knickers. She felt him sitting up, heard him moving a little then felt as he slowly freed each foot from her shoes. His hands slowly roamed up her leg to the top of her stockings then carefully pulled them down. His lips casually moved up her leg, occasionally kissing, then along her inner thigh until he met her knickers again. She held her breath as his fingers hooked around the fabric.

"Loki?" she asked softly.

"Yes?"

"This isn't going to be it, right? I don't want you to disappear after this, so I won't see you again."

"You have not seen the last of me, my dear," he smiled.

She lifted her hips so he could slip the knickers off her, and lay before him as she heard him moving around. When he lay across her again to kiss her she was surprised to feel his bare skin pressing into her, his erection pressing insistently against his thigh. She reached for the blindfold again, and again he moved her hand away.

"Still not yet, Hermione," he chuckled.

"But I..." she protested.

"You lack patience."

"I don't have as much time as you."

"That is no excuse for being in a hurry," he murmured against her skin before kissing her neck, then chest, finally down her stomach. He settled between her legs, kissing and nipping the inside of her thighs until she was writhing beneath him, her motions asking him for more. He obliged by running his tongue over her folds.

"Yes," she hissed, pressing herself into his touch.

"Patience," he ordered, hooking his arms around her legs to hold her in place before running his tongue over her again. He quickly proved to her that his silver tongue was not just good at talking, and as much as she craved more, she would have been happy with the attention he was giving her. He'd circle her nub, then flick it a few times before moving to pay attention to the rest of her lips, which would bring her close, then back down in a delicious roller coaster.

"Please," she whimpered when he came within seconds of giving what was promising to be a mind-numbing orgasm.

"Please, what, Hermione?" he murmured against her nub, the vibrations sending her body reeling.

"Please, Loki, I need..." she started, but she couldn't finish the thought as his fingers slid up her folds, running over her sweet spot.

"I love my name on your lips, my love," he said with a smirk he could hear.

"Loki..." she meant to beg, but his fingers parted her, and his tongue touched her again, and she came apart, her orgasm crashing over her in waves as she struggled for breath. She hadn't come all the way down when she felt Loki's strong arm encircle her torso as he lay next to her, and he pulled her so she was astride him, his cock running along her folds. She couldn't help but buck against him to feel him, long and hard against her, and he let off a hiss. Without warning, the blindfold lifted from her eyes, and she could look down at him. A confident smile played across his lips, and she ran her fingers across his skin before reaching between them to guide him to her opening. Bracing herself on his torso she lowered herself onto him, fingers raking across his chest. Their eyes locked as his hands came to her hips, guiding her against him. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and let her head fall back, but he reached up to wind his fingers into her hair and force her face towards his.

"You were so desperate to look before, and you close your eyes?" he growled, and before she could respond he pulled her down while thrusting himself upwards, locking their lips. She moved against him, occasionally switching from rocking, to bouncing, to moving her hips in circles, each earning a groan of approval from him. His lips wandered from her lips to her neck and jaw line, and his hands came to massage her breasts. As her movements became hurried, he sat up, pulling her to him and slowing her down as she whimpered, desperate for release. She wrapped her arms around him, winding her fingers into his locks, and feeling the sinewy muscles moving under his skin, and he moved her legs so they were wrapped around him and placed a hand on her bottom, guiding her against him. Soon enough she was tightening against him, and he grabbed her hips again, thrusting roughly into her until, with a cry of his name, she came apart around him, and the sight and feel of her caused him to spill himself into her.

He laid her carefully down, leaning to her to kiss her while he tried to think of something to say. But as he watched her eyes fluttered closed and she let the weight of the day overcome her and pull her into sleep. He stared down at her for a long time, lost in thought. His brother was right. She was now his affliction, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle having one.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione turned over in the middle of the night, separating their bodies. He stared at her for a long time, thinking hard. He wanted to stay, more than anything, and she wanted him to stay, which made the decision even harder. But he was now welcome back in Asgard, and it even sounded like they were going to find a place for him now that everyone was admitting the throne was not for him. It sounded like everyone, including himself, were willing to put in the effort to make things different, and it was all because of the woman sleeping next to him. He needed to go back, to claim that position, and to start to establish his place. Staying was not an option.

He wanted to keep her, to take her with him to Asgard, and make her his forever. But that would mean that he would have to watch as she aged quicker than he, and died in just a few decades. The obvious response would be for him to be with her as long as he could, and then return to his duties when she had passed, but he wasn't sure if he could let himself get involved with her knowing their time together would be so short. It would be better for both of them if he ended things and left her. The pain would dull after a while. She was a desirable woman, charming, intelligent, and kind. Someone would pick her up quickly. Someone who deserved someone with her heart. Someone not like him.

He dressed quickly and quietly, and got out some stationary and a pen. But what to write? If he was going to end the relationship, he should do it bluntly, and not get her hopes up. She was smart, she would attribute his promise to see her again as just another of his lies, and not wait for him. He wondered if the redhead at the fight club would come to his senses and make her his, as much as he hated the thought, it would be better for her, and easier for him to move on if she was happy with another. She deserved happiness.

The note was painful to write, but over quickly. He moved to look down at her one more time, his resolve nearly breaking as a flit of a smile crossed her face in her dream. His fingers reached for her, caressing her face one more time, running through her wild locks.

"Goodbye, my love," he murmured, and he was gone before she took her next breath.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The moment she woke up she knew something was amiss. With a pit in her stomach, she turned over to look at the other side of the bed, and saw only a folded piece of paper sitting on the pillow. A wave of anger and disappointment crashed over her, though it was directed more at herself than Loki. She shouldn't have expected anything different from him. Slowly she picked up the paper and unfolded it, reading:

_Hermione,_

_ I am returning to Asgard. I thank you for all you have done for me._

_ The room is paid through the end of the week, if you'd like to stay._

_Loki_

"Can't even compose a decent Dear John letter, can he?" she growled, looking skyward, wondering if Heimdall was watching. "If you're watching, tell him he's an arse, will you?"

Refusing to let the tears that were building fall, she wrapped a sheet around herself and went into her room. She dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt then quickly used her magic to pack her things, and she used the television to check-out. Within fifteen minutes of waking, she Apparated from the hotel.

It took four Apparation jumps to get back to the small town, but she kept her composure as she entered the building and climbed the stairs to the apartment above. It was just before dinner, and she could smell Charlie's grilled cheese and tomato soup through the door as she knocked.

"Hermione?" he asked, opening the door wide.

"I need someone who won't say I told you so," she said softly.

He looked at her a moment, then opened his arms. "What if I said I had a new bottle of firewhiskey?"

"I'd say you are my new best friend," she smiled, accepting his hug.

"I'm just whipping up something to eat. Would you like some?"

"Sure," she nodded, sitting on his couch. Charlie might be a confirmed bachelor, but years of living with his mother had left him tidy, and the room was inviting. He had splurged on a wide, comfortable couch as he spent a lot of time on it, reading, watching the telly, or conversing with friends. The living room and kitchen were connected, and Charlie often ate while sitting on the couch rather than at the small table, which was usually covered in papers from work. The only other room in the apartment was his bedroom, which was large enough for a queen-sized bed, his chest of drawers, his collection of broomsticks and Hogwarts memorabilia, and two night tables, and one had to walk through the bedroom to get to the bathroom. She loved Charlie's apartment. It was cozy, always warmed by the fire, and was certainly not a cavernous chamber in a castle, which made it even more appealing at the moment.

Charlie put a bowl of soup and a sandwich in front of her, then summoned the firewhiskey and poured them both generous measures. "Okay, kitten, let me know what happened."

"I'm sure you can figure out what happened after we left here the other night," she muttered.

"I figured that's where that was leading."

"Well, we spent the night together, and part of the next morning. Then that night we left for Asgard..."

He made a noise, but quickly quieted himself.

"I'll tell you all about it in a little bit. We went to Asgard, I convinced them to end his banishment, and he brought me back to Las Vegas where we spent last night together again. I didn't want to if he was just going to leave, he told me that I hadn't seen the last of him. But that didn't stop him from disappearing sometime after I fell asleep."

"Stupid git," he smiled, and they drained their drinks. He poured them some more and asked, "Can I hear the story?"

She sighed, and gave him the condensed version, including what had gotten Loki banished. His listened, asked few questions, and studied her.

"Are you sure he's gone?"

"I got a bloody note," she said. "Thanks for everything. Stay in the room if you want."

"Ouch."

"I shouldn't have been so stupid."

"We've all done stupid shit, Hermione."

"I hope you're not referring to me."

"Maybe I am," he said, taking a drink.

"Glad to know you think I'm stupid shit," she rolled her eyes, but a smirk played across her lips, knowing it wasn't what he meant.

"You can't even _play_ dumb, you know that, don't you Granger?" he cocked an eyebrow.

"You're not going back to that whole you'd be willing to give up your planned life-long bachelorhood for me, are you?" she groaned.

"No, ma'am," he shook his head. "I'm not ready, and you're not ready, especially right now. But that doesn't mean that I enjoyed seeing you kissing another man, or knowing that you were sleeping with him. It just... it got me thinking."

"About what?" she asked, curious.

"I'm not the right man for you. I might have been at one point, but I brushed it off as something short-term, and I lost my chance."

"Now who is acting dumb? You're a good man, Charlie."

He smiled at her. "A good man isn't always the right man. I may have been good enough at the time, and if I took the chance we might have been happy together. But _he_ made you realize something. You need something different in your life. Something not merely good."

She scoffed. "I need a man who killed his biological father and tried to destroy a realm in a fit of madness?"

"They were at war, and they live by different rules, and you know that," he replied.

"I do, but that doesn't mean they're rules I would live by."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, kitten. If, during the war, there was a way you could trick Bellatrix into going somewhere where you could easily kill her, would you have done it?"

"Absolutely," she replied confidently.

"If there was some spell you could cast that would have killed all the Death Eaters and Voldemort, would you have done it to save everyone like Fred, and Lupin, and Tonks?"

She bit her lip as she thought about it. "Yes," she finally answered.

"What if it killed those who were helping them, too? The ones in the Ministry who helped propagate their lies, but weren't Death Eaters and wouldn't fight with them if given the chance."

She exhaled, closing her eyes. "That's a lot of people," she whispered.

"Imagine if it wasn't just Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and those who you would save, but all the Muggles and all the innocents who suffered because of the war."

She looked at him, trying to think. "I... I don't know. It's easy to say yes in a hypothetical."

"It's similar to what he went though. He killed Laufey, which it sounds like was as much revenge as ending the war, then he did what he thought would end the war, even if there were seemingly innocent victims. It does sound like he was a bit mad at the time, but you've done some pretty mad stuff yourself during the war. Or do you ride on dragons and try to outrun Fiendfyre for fun?"

"That's a faulty argument as I did those things to save my life."

"He did it to stop a war, which may be the same thing. And don't get me started on all the other insane shit you did in school, going after the Philosopher's Stone, stealing potion supplies from under Snape's nose to brew Polyjuice, breaking out Sirius Black..."

"Point taken," she interrupted. "But what does this even matter now? He's gone. And, as you pointed out the other night, he's a bit on the inaccessible side."

"I don't think he's a fool enough not to realize his mistake and come back."

She opened her mouth to say something, and turned away, shaking her head.

"Hermione, you don't need me. You don't need a man like me. He's shown you what you want. I don't believe in love at first sight, but I do believe that the quicker you fall for someone the more it says about what you need in a person. You are strong, powerful, intelligent, and quick-witted, and you need someone like you, but there was something else about him that drew you in. Maybe it's because he's complicated, and you're Hermione, and you saw him as a puzzle you'd never be able to solve. Perhaps you're drawn to the mischievous side of him. I don't know what it was, but I'm sure you have an idea. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he won't come to his senses and come back for you, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to be enough for you anymore. I'd bet whatever it is, it's more a Slytherin trait. I wouldn't be surprised if you wound up with someone like Blaise Zabini after this."

"That would be the day," she snorted, finishing her drink and pouring herself another.

"You did say you slept with Malfoy, and insinuated it was Lucius."

"It was Lucius. He and I were at the Leaky Cauldron the day I broke up with Ron and his divorce was finalized. We shared a few misery drinks, chatted a bit, and wound up in a room upstairs."

"Would the Hermione who started going out with Ron even consider having a drink with Lucius Malfoy?"

"No," she replied quickly, shaking her head.

"So what changed?"

"I guess I wanted something totally different from Ron. You can't get much different than a Malfoy."

"Was it just one night?"

"One weekend," she blushed. "We went to his estate by the sea to avoid people seeing us together."

"The Hermione I remember from your Hogwarts years would have screamed and ran when she woke up next to a Malfoy. What kept you there for a whole weekend?"

"The sex was bloody amazing," she smirked.

"Is that the only reason?"

"No. It was just... fun to do something that seemed so forbidden, and he was charming. Plus the conversation was nice because we had enough to chat about that wasn't politics or recent history."

"Why didn't it become more?"

"Because he's Lucius Bloody Malfoy. As fun as it was short-term, I couldn't get over every horrid thing about him permanently, because it had been so personal. The man watched me being tortured in his manor. I don't think I'd make it through an actual date without slapping him. You can forgive someone things when you're in bed with them that you wouldn't forgive them normally."

"So when you have all the things you like about him, without that pesky bit of 'he's Lucius Bloody Malfoy' and you'd rather make your record for punching Malfoy men two for two, and someone you obviously had a connection with both in and out of the bedroom you have..." he trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

She looked disgusted, and she glared at him. "I do not love Loki."

"No, you wouldn't. It's too soon for that. But you like him enough that it's seriously bothering you that he left."

"You suck at sympathy," she murmured, draining her glass again. "Couldn't you have just bad-mouthed him and told me I was better off?"

"Do you want me to get you ice cream, too? If you wanted girl-like sympathy, you should have gone to a girl."

"I need to stop surrounding myself with men."

"That you do," he chuckled, holding an arm out so she could cuddle to his side. "The way I see it now is you have two options. First, go downstairs and let it out on one of the punching bags."

She scowled. "I think I may be avoiding that place for a couple weeks."

"Then we're going with the second option," he smirked, filling their glasses again. "Get completely pissed, make inappropriate jokes, allow me to be chivalrous by offering you the bed while I sleep on the couch, and return home tomorrow or the day after to pick up the pieces of your life the way only Hermione Jean Granger can."

"Sounds like a plan," she smiled, clinking her glass against his.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She left the next day after sleeping in. Charlie was at work, so she cleaned up the apartment, wrote him a short thank you note that promised to replace the bottle they had drained the night before. She gathered her things and Apparated to the alley outside her apartment building.

Hermione lived in a flat overlooking the River Thames, in a Muggle building, though the flat had been owned by a wizard before her, and the Floo had been set up already. She didn't want to live in one of the small wizarding villages around the country, she liked watching the city at night, and thought there would be plenty of time to move somewhere quieter when it came time for her to start a family. The flat was spacious, modern, and quiet enough it wasn't difficult for her to convince her neighbors that she was a Muggle.

Still, her time at war had instilled a habit of surveying her surroundings with an appraising eye for anything that seemed out of place. The large black sedan was definitely out of place, as were the two black-suited men sitting in it. She slowed down, pretending the wheel of her suitcase was caught in a crack in the sidewalk. The men were looking at her, but they were Muggles. She was sure of it. She walked into the building, weighing her options. She decided to stick her wand up her sleeve, and go up to her apartment normally, to see if they approached her. And, as she slid the key into the lock, she heard one call her name.

"Miss Granger," the man said, and she unlocked the door and pocketed the key, fingering her wand as she turned to him.

"Can I help you?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"I'm Agent Coulson, and I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D..."

"Shield?" she raised an eyebrow.

"For short."

"And the long version?" she snapped.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," he said, showing her his badge, which she took and scrutinized.

"I think you may be a little out of your jurisdiction," she said, tossing it back at him.

He smiled. "I'd like to talk to you."

"Have I done something wrong?"

"Not that we are aware of, but you have spent quite a lot of time with an Asgardian named Loki..."

"Muggle building!" she hissed, hearing footsteps on the stairs. "Get in here and close the bloody door before you start spouting that shit." She wrenched her door open and went inside, putting her suitcase by the doorway to her room.

"You have five minutes of my time, Agent Coulson," she said, pointing roughly at her couch. "It better be impressive, I've had a hellish few days."

He sat, placing a briefcase on her coffee table. "I would not have been here if it weren't for your little excursion into New Mexico. Jane Foster was quite happy to inform us of Loki's visit."

"And you found me by my first name?" she said, raising an eyebrow as she sat across from him. "I remember every word of that night, and my last name did not come up."

"No, but we're watching Dr. Foster. The webcam in that room is always on. We got a picture of you, of both of you. After that it was a matter of plugging it into a database and searching the right area. Imagine our surprise how often the two of you appeared on camera in Las Vegas over the past few weeks."

"To be honest it would be more surprising if I had spent weeks in Las Vegas and didn't appear on a few thousand cameras."

"What is impressive is you are not shown on any cameras showing your arrival. You were not in the airport or bus terminal..."

"And there's no other way to enter a city than a bus or plane?" she shook her head.

"Of course there are other ways. But we don't have any record of a 'Hermione' staying at any hotel, either, at least until you moved in with Loki."

"I stayed with a couple friends," she said casually.

"You first appeared on camera at the Hard Rock Casino with three unknown associates, where you proceeded to eat dinner and watch a show..."

"Sounds boring and utterly benign," she said, waving a hand dismissively.

"The next time you appeared it was two days later, when you went to dinner with Loki in the Bellagio. Where were you those two days?" he asked.

"Working," she replied shortly.

"Doing what? We did a background check on you. It seems you have no known place of employment."

"Unless I'm under suspicion of something and need to provide an alibi, I will not give a reply to that question, and I'm starting to think I should consult a legal expert before continuing this conversation."

He smiled. "I doubt that is your preferred method of dealing with this situation."

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound casual, but her mouth was suddenly dry.

"I'll cut to the chase, Miss Granger. After Dr. Foster contacted us, and we found you, it wasn't difficult to retrace your steps since your dinner with Loki. And when we did that, it took about three minutes to find where you were staying, and five minutes after arriving to be told you had just checked out twenty minutes prior, though no one remembered either of you leaving. We entered the room, and found this," he said, opening his briefcase and dropping Loki's copy of her autobiography on the table. She swallowed as she looked at the book, emotions sweeping through her that she fought to keep off her face.

"It's quite the interesting read, Miss Granger," he said slowly.

"How many have read that book?" she asked softly.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know how many _Obliviate_ charms I'm going to have to perform," she shot back.

"Then it would be unwise of me to tell you how many, wouldn't it?"

"Fine," she said, pulling out her wand. "There are ways to get the information from you, and I'm not above using them."

"I assure you, Miss Granger, I will not be speaking to any outsiders about you or your magic. I need to know about Loki. What was he here for?"

"Something he had to do," she answered vaguely.

"You are aware of what happened the last time he was here?"

"Are you talking when he infiltrated the mobile base you built around Mjolnir? Or the Destroyer? Because technically he wasn't here for the latter."

"No need to be short with me, Miss Granger. I would think we're on the side of protecting this planet..."

"I have no side in this."

He raised an eyebrow. "You spent an awfully long time with Loki to not have a side."

"And yet I don't. You may leave now, Agent Coulson," she motioned towards the door.

"What were you doing with him?" he demanded.

"If you must know, I was assisting with something he had to do on Asgard. It is over, he is there, and I am here and quite exhausted."

"How did he get here and back? We have no record..."

"You wouldn't. The Bifrost was destroyed, but he doesn't need it."

He studied her. "How does he move?"

"Some form of magical transportation," she shrugged.

"Miss Granger, this information is important to the protection of this planet. We need to know how someone from a different realm can get here..."

"I don't know how," she hissed. "It's like Apparation, but nothing I would ever be able to do. I was on Asgard for less than twenty-four hours. I couldn't hope to know how their magic works in that time..."

"You were on Asgard?"

"Yes. I was. As I said, I was helping Loki do something that applied only to that realm. He is currently not a threat to this one, though I can't promise that won't change in the future."

He studied her for several long seconds. "You know, you could really be a help to us."

"Not interested," she waved a hand dismissively.

"We're putting something together, the Avengers Project. We could use a magical fighter, and it seems like you are quite skilled..."

"Still not interested," she interrupted.

"We would be quite happy to have you studying various possibly magical objects, and, if possible, magic on other realms."

Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of objects?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"That's classified until you accept. We have some of the best fighters on Earth, and have been promised Thor's help..."

"Which you won't get until the Bifrost is repaired, unless Loki helps, and I doubt he's coming back anytime soon."

"We're working on a way."

"You mean Jane Foster is working on a way," she guessed. "Because she wants him back here. 'Gift for my brother' my arse."

He gave her an impressed smile and nodded.

"Why should I even consider joining this, what was it? Avengers Project?"

"You seem to have a penchant for saving things," he replied softly and evenly, getting a binder out of the briefcase and placing it on the table under the book. "I'm giving you the chance to do that on a global scale. Good afternoon, Miss Granger. I'll show myself out."

She watched him go then picked up the binder, flipping through it. She read through every page five times before she realized her stomach was growling and she needed to relieve herself. Loki's name appeared under 'list of known threats', though they hadn't updated it with a picture. There were pictures of the town after the Destroyer had been through, though they hadn't gotten a picture of him on their base.

It was tempting, being given the opportunity to research all sorts of different artifacts and examine the magic behind them, and to be asked to work with a band of heroes, working to protect the planet from dark forces. Agent Coulson had known exactly which chords to strike to get her to pay attention. Loki and Thor's presence had proven that humans were fragile, and would need protecting if another realm decided to try to take over, and maybe some of these magical objects she would be able to research would help her discover just how to do that. She was known for advocating for the disadvantaged. What if humans became those disadvantaged? The list of 'known threats' wasn't long, but it was thrilling, and she felt the same desire to be prepared that she did when facing their Horcrux Hunt.

_But what if one of those threats becomes Loki?_ her brain asked, and her heart sank a little. _Would you be able to fight him?_

She went into her kitchen to order delivery and make a cup of tea, and wondered aloud why things could never be easy for her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The entire table erupted in laughter as Thor finished his story. Everyone gathered shouted their approval of his story, and drank to him. Except one. Sitting directly to Thor's right, Loki remained quiet and refined, without even a half-smile crossing his face. Someone noticed his melancholy, and she immediately turned to her husband.

"He needs her," Frigga murmured to Odin, watching her younger son with a heavy heart from the doorway just outside the room filled with feasting revelers.

"He can get by without her," Odin replied dismissively.

"Is that what you want for him? To merely get by?"

"I expect him to move on from this," he said firmly.

She waited a moment before trying again. "She would be good for him."

"What makes you think that?"

"She's obviously had some influence on him. He is not himself since returning. He pines for her. How many here would be willing to stand up for him the way she did?"

"She did what he asked, nothing more."

"You are a fool if you think there was nothing more, or if she did what she did because he asked," she snapped. "Think of what that girl could do for him, and for us. You want Loki, our son, to act as a true prince of Asgard. He would for her."

Odin looked at Loki, who was fingering a fork rather than joining in the jovial laughter that was taking over the table again. "Then why does he not go to her?"

"You of all people should know about pride. He sought her out as the condition he needed to return to us. She helped him earn his place at our table back, and he is not going to give that up, as it means disrespecting the work she did for him. But you could let him have both. Think as his father, Odin."

Odin swallowed. "She is a mortal."

"You and I both know that can be changed. You do not need to make that decision now, though when he approaches you asking for that for her I pray you give him that gift. She would be good for Asgard, and your son."

"Thor is going to want his, too."

"We will discuss that when the time comes. Thor is more interested in getting back to her, I don't think either of them is ready for her to come here yet. But Hermione has been here. You have met her, seen who she is. You know she would be good for our realm. Think of her magic alone, so different from what we have here! You would gain such a strong ally, and the alliance of those like her, and make your son happy if you would stop being stubborn and agree to it."

Loki had progressed to hanging his head, avoiding any gaze coming his way, his eyes distant, the food and drink sitting untouched in front of him.

"Fine. But he must convince her to join us here. I will not offer her anything until they come to the decision together."

"Spoken like his father," she smiled. "I am going to talk to him."

He nodded, and she entered the room. The group scrambled to their feet, bowing in a show of respect to her.

"Loki," she said, coming to him, and he glanced up at her. "I fancy a walk."

"I shall accompany you, mother," he said softly, excusing himself and offering her an arm. She steered him through the throne room to the large verandah, where they came to a rest at the furthest point out from the castle.

"Is there something you wished to speak to me about, mother?" Loki asked, looking at her in confusion.

"Yes, there is," she said softly, looking up at him. "I must confess myself disappointed in you, Loki."

"What have I done?" he asked in surprise.

"You came back alone."

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. He turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm.

"You will listen to me, Loki."

He shot her a dark look and turned away from her, looking out towards the rainbow bridge.

"I expected, after your father reversed your banishment and you returned to Earth, that we would not see you for some time. I did not expect to see you return shortly thereafter without her. I did not expect you to treat her in such a way."

"I promised her I would come back," he snapped.

"When? You have made no such indication you are thinking of returning to her. In fact, you seem to be working quite hard at establishing your place here."

"Thor will be king. He needs an adviser to rein him in, you know that. I am merely showing him, and Father, that I would be preferable for that role."

"Thor will not be king for a while. Your father thinks he needs to prove he will not be so impulsive, and perhaps listen to an adviser's ideas, before he's ready to hand him that role. You have time to return to her."

"She will not want me to return."

"She was not just your champion, Loki. That you made quite obvious. I had hoped she meant as much to you as you meant to her."

"How do you know what I meant to her?"

"A wise woman, upon meeting the parents of a man she cares for, seeks approval from them both no matter how intimidated she is. Hermione had to prove herself to us, or we would not have taken her testimony to heart. But a wise woman who is in love also has a moment. She looks at the mother of the man she wants to give her heart to and she asks, without words, if she is good enough. She looks at the woman who raised that man, and her look asks if that woman thinks she is worthy of taking over the care for that man. A wise woman knows she needs approval from both, but fathers are easier. She will be taking over the mother's job as primary caretaker for that man, and that requires another level of approval. Hermione, when she was showing us her memories, looked at me in such a way. She didn't need words to ask if she was good enough for you, if I would let her have you. I would be happy to give you to her, but you need to make things right. You wronged her by leaving, and a strong woman like Hermione may never forgive you for that sin. But if I'm right, she will. You will have to prove your sincerity, but part of her will be eager to have you back, because I don't think you hurt her so badly she can't forgive."

"And then what am I to do, mother? Watch her as her mortal life claims her?"

"You and I both know there are ways around that," she smiled, producing a golden apple and placing it in his hand.

"Father..."

"When you're ready, ask him. Hermione made an impression on him, one he can't ignore. You are his son. He wants you happy."

He stared at the apple, then the rainbow bridge. A thought came over him, a way he could show Hermione he was serious, that he wanted her to be happy. And with the thought came the fantasies he had been suppressing, Hermione at his side, radiant, strong, his forever. It was too much to hope for.

"You are leaving," Frigga said, with a knowing smile.

"Yes. I cannot promise I will not be back quickly."

"I will be here for you if you return with a broken heart, or with the one who owns it," she whispered, hugging him and walking off. Seconds later, he was standing on the rainbow bridge next to Heimdall.

"Did she return home?" he asked.

"Eventually," the Gatekeeper replied.

"Where...?"

"To Romania. With that man."

Anger surged through him, and he nearly turned away.

"I would tell you not to be so rash, but that would go against your nature. She sought only compassion, nothing more. She still cries when she's not otherwise occupied."

He moved to the edge of the bridge, feeling the edge with his foot. Just like he had asked Hermione to trust him and step forward he needed to trust in her spirit, and that he would not be made a fool. Closing his eyes he stepped forward, landing on the carpet in the hallway outside her flat.

He stared at the numbers on the door for a long moment, much longer than he should considering he was still in his Asgardian armor, and standing in a fully inhabited, mostly-Muggle apartment building. He could hear someone inside her flat, there was music playing, and the sound and smell of someone making popcorn. The act was so simple, reaching up and knocking, but he could not will himself to do it. A faraway door slamming prompted him to actually reach for the knocker, and he was surprised when his hand moved it to hit the door three times.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: This is is for this fic, and it skews a little fluffy as it was an exchange and the time was a little crunched. But in writing this I fell so far in love with this pairing that I had to keep going. I've got a sequel, that's much (much, did I mention much?) longer in the works, and it dives much further into the levels of Hermione's compassion and Loki's darker side. It won't be ready for publishing anytime soon, so you'll have to be patient!**

Hermione had a busy day. She had given her two weeks notice at the Ministry that morning, but hadn't officially given S.H.I.E.L.D an answer and she had been recruited to be a potioneer and a magical historian. After a couple days, the tears Loki still caused had mostly subsided, and she was determined to throw herself into whatever job she was about to accept. But she felt in no mood to make any life-changing decisions that afternoon, and had stopped at Flourish and Blotts on the way home for a new book about destructive magical objects, and she put on soft classical music to relax as she popped corn for a snack.

The knocks on the door were unexpected, and caused her heart to leap into her throat. She was expecting Agent Coulson to return to see her, as she didn't have a phone line, and he didn't seem to know the number of the mobile she still kept, but she hadn't seen the black sedan again, and didn't know how she could miss any agents in the neighborhood. Another thought, more terrifying, also came to her. Was someone watching the agents? Did someone on the 'known threat' list know she had been approached? She quickly pushed that fear aside. No one would bother knocking on her door if they were planning on killing her. Whoever it was, they wanted to talk.

Slowly, she crossed her flat and looked out the peephole, and anger rushed through her. Loki was standing there, looking defeated, but his look did not change her reaction. Her body was drawn to full height and her hands were shaking in anger as she opened the door a crack.

"Banished again already?" she sneered.

His face darkened for a long moment. "I must talk to you."

"I have nothing left to say to you."

"Just a minute. Please."

"No."

"I am not leaving until I can speak to you, and I would think it would be a favor I am knocking instead of inviting myself in."

"Are you planning on standing out there looking like that, even if the Muggles see you?"

"If that is what it takes to get a moment to speak to you."

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him, then she opened the door a little more roughly than she needed, stepping aside and motioning him in with a jerk of her arm.

He cautiously crossed the threshold, staying far away from any of her things, thinking she'd probably hex him if he touched a single belonging, but his eyes swept the room anyway. It was neat, which did not surprise him, with a couple couches for entertaining, a fireplace, some pictures of her family and friends, and a few knick-knacks from her world travels. Above the mantle was an award, her Order of Merlin, and the first copy of her book. Crookshanks was underneath the coffee table, hissing at him. When he looked at the cat the orange creature streaked from under the table, batting his knee several times before disappearing into her bedroom, growling from under the bed.

"What do you want?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"I..." he swallowed hard. "I have the rest of what I owe you."

Her body went rigid and her hand flicked towards her wand. "I don't want it," she replied through clenched teeth. "In fact, I have something for you."

She summoned a leather bag and slammed it onto the counter, where it opened to reveal it was full of gold Galleons, many more than the size of the bag would indicate.

"I haven't spent a knut. I don't want it."

"It was yours for a job. You completed the job. You should keep it."

"It is a painful reminder of the most foolish moment of my life," she shot back. "If you don't take it, I'm going to donate it, to get rid of it and hopefully the memories it carries."

He was so shocked by her words that he could only look at her.

"I should have known," she murmured, walking into her kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. "It's not like your title didn't warn me. The God of Mischief and Lies. How bloody stupid was I to think that I was going to be the first who wasn't your victim?"

"Hermione..." he started, but she cut him off.

"I know what you're going to say," she snapped. "You didn't lie. You said I hadn't seen the last of you, and here you are. You know what I meant, but what do you care? You are keeping your word, the supposedly reformed God of Lies holds to his promise. All I get after our nights together is a bloody note that was akin to what you might say to an acquaintance you don't particularly care when you see again. When were you planning on coming back, Loki? A month? A year? Or perhaps when I had moved on, when I had bound myself to another man and you could keep your promise of return without having any obligations to the foolish mortal girl?"

"Do not talk about being with another man," he snapped, his face darkened.

"I'm not going to waste my anger on you. You've always been like this. Perhaps if I had an upbringing such as yours I would be the same way, I can't say because I can't possibly know what it's like to be like you. I can't imagine manipulating those around me until I can't be sure if they care for me, or for the image I'm feeding them. I'm saving my anger for myself. I shouldn't have been so foolish. I never should have trusted my feelings to you."

She took a deep breath and looked away from him, then added softly, "You got what you want, Loki. You're back in Asgard. In the big picture, a mortal girl doesn't matter. I've only got another century or so, and after you can continue your life without the guilt I hope you feel."

"Of course I feel guilt," he told her. "I should have stayed. Asgard isn't worth you."

"I can't trust you, Silvertongue. I can't believe a word that comes out of your mouth. I did once, and it was a mistake."

"There is nothing I can say to convince you what I'm about to say is sincere, but I pray you let me say it. I can't promise you that I'll behave. I've told many people that I'll change to let them down, so often that many of those I should be treating well have become resigned to it. And I deserve any scorn and suspicion that comes my way. I have, up until now, never felt a need to change my ways. It seems things always seem to work out in the end, and I convinced myself that the ends justified the means, even if the ends were only that way by chance and the skill of others.

"I cannot promise that I will never make another play for power. It is tempting, and it is difficult for someone to give up on something they have wanted for so long.

"I will not promise that I will never speak another lie, play another trick, or smooth-talk my way into or out of a situation. That is who I am, and even you, who has known me for so short a time, knows that even when I'm attempting to behave myself, I cannot just turn off my personality like one of your light switches.

"I will not promise that I will never harm someone again, because even if I was on the side of the supposedly righteous, there may come times when I must harm or even kill someone.

"I can promise that if you are by my side, I will listen to your opinion, and try to have a conversation about what is tempting me to go back to my old ways. And I will promise that if you do not like my decision that I will not stop you from leaving."

She studied him for a long moment. "I just don't know if I can believe you. You hurt me. I can't just get over it and be with you."

"What if I took the money back, and gave you something else instead?"

"I cannot be bought with material things!" she snapped.

"Not material. Something more important than that."

"What could you possibly have to offer that I could trust?"

"Come with me," he murmured, holding an arm out.

"I'm staying in this realm, thank you very much."

"I promise we'll stay on Midgard."

She eyed him skeptically.

"I'll care for that little demon you call a cat for a week if you come."

A smile tugged the corner of her mouth, but her scowl quickly returned. "Don't you insult Crookshanks. He's twice the creature you'll ever be."

"Your insults are lacking when you have gone too long without your coffee."

"How dare you call the truth an insult?"

"Please, Hermione. Just this once, trust me. Perhaps if I prove myself trustworthy in this endeavor, you'll be willing to grant me a second."

Her jaw set, and she inhaled slowly. "Fine," she grumbled, stepping towards him.

"You'll want a jacket where we're going."

She summoned one and put it on, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Unexpectedly, he turned her so she was fully embraced in his arms, and before she could protest, he lifted her up and stepped out of her apartment, bringing her to a quiet street she immediately recognized. The sun had long been down in the small town just outside Newcastle, Australia, and no one seemed to be interested in being out in the crisp night air.

"You want to gain my trust and you bring me _here_?" she hissed, tears welling in her eyes and she jumped away from him. "What do you hope to gain by this? Rubbing my failure in my face?"

"I know you are distressed by the loss of your parents," he said softly. "But you told me it wasn't a matter of magic being unable to reverse their memories, it's a matter of you being unable to maintain the level of magic needed to reverse the spell. I think there may be a way," he murmured.

"Take my hand," he said, reaching for her.

Cautiously she reached out and placed her palm in his, and he closed his eyes, concentrating. She felt warmth spreading from the fingers wrapped around his, and a surge of energy passed between them. But there was something more- something much more. She suddenly became aware of the magical energy surrounding her. Not just her own, but the strong, much more powerful magic surrounding Loki. Above her magic seemed to hang in the air like another layer of atmosphere, waiting for someone to draw upon it, which Loki was doing.

"This is incredible," she whispered.

"Try to draw the magical energy you need."

She focused, but having no experience meant things were not going to come quickly. She felt a small draw off Loki; barely enough for her to even notice it, though her magical aura felt a little more energized, the same sensation of quick energy one gets when they are startled. She tried to draw energy from the air above them, but she felt as though she were putting more energy into the task than she was receiving.

"I... I can draw it, but it's not enough. I may get another couple seconds from it, but it won't be enough."

"What about now?" he asked, and he started releasing magic through his hand. Instantly, she felt the difference, her magic suddenly felt energized, the magic he was releasing was wrapping around her and fusing itself to her skin. She looked at Loki, who was suddenly focused, trying to draw the magic to them. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on his brow, and his breathing became heavy.

"Enough!" she cried, dropping his hand, and took several deep breaths.

"We can't do this," she whispered. "Look at you. This is too much for you."

"While I would agree you are too much for me, this I can handle. It's not like it's going to kill me," he said with a smirk.

"What will it do?" she asked.

"To tell the truth? I'm not sure. I've never done it before. I'll most likely be magically drained for a while."

"I don't want you hurt," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Now, now, Dr. Granger. You speak to me like that, and I might get the impression that you care," he smirked.

"I don't have to care for you to not wish harm on you."

"So you wouldn't harm me?"

"Of course not. You know I wouldn't."

"Good. Because I'm about to give your parents quite the shock," he said, pushing past her and through the gate.

"Loki! Don't!" she hissed in horror.

"If you really want to stop me, Hermione, you can," he shot over his shoulder as he strode up the steps. She followed him closely, excitement and fear washing over her. He looked back at her, waiting for her to stop him, before hitting the doorbell.

"You better stand there," he said, pointing to the spot in front of the door. "No one who birthed someone as intelligent as you is going to open the door for someone who looks like me."

She stepped forward, hands shaking. A few tense seconds later her mother opened the door. For a long moment the two women looked at each other, Hermione unable to speak.

"Can I help you?" her mother asked.

A second later Loki stepped forward, and Hermione's mother was suddenly frozen in place.

"This is not a good time to lose yourself, my dear," he murmured as Hermione's dad appeared at the top of the stairs and quickly suffered the same fate as his wife.

"Can you get them somewhere they can sit down?" Hermione asked. "I don't know how they'll react if this works, and I'd rather not have to try to catch them both if they faint."

"Not a problem," he murmured, and both of her parents walked stiffly to their sitting room, sitting next to each other on the couch.

"You'll want to do something to keep them there yourself. Once I surrender control to you, my magic will no longer have a hold of them," he murmured, standing behind her.

She pulled her wand and carefully cast a spell to keep her parents bound to their couch and unable to run when Loki's magic ceased to hold. She stared at them, willing the memories she had of their time together in her youth to come to the forefront of her mind, she would have to draw upon them, and the love she felt for them in those memories, to get her through the task at hand. She felt Loki move closer, felt his hand at the small of her back, and the thrill that coursed through her body at his contact. A soft chuckle made her realize he knew what he was doing to her, he knew her resolve was cracking, as it had been since he announced there was a possibility she'd have her parents back. The offer, even knowing the damage it would cause him, had thrown her mind into turmoil, and she suspected the only reason she wasn't laughing maniacally at the situation was that she was still reeling from the shock of it all. A mere hour ago she was convinced she'd never see her silver-tongued Asgardian prince again. She knew that if she had seen him one of them would sustain serious injury in the confrontation, and she had barely controlled herself as he entered her apartment. But now... She could no longer fight her feelings, no longer deny them because he wasn't around or had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. Things would be rough at times, and there's a good chance their fights would be so spectacular Thor would sell tickets to them, but she was his, as he was hers.

"Are you ready?" he murmured in her ear, and for a second she forgot what was going on, willing him to keep talking so she could relish in the sound of his voice. But he suddenly held his hand in front of her, and doubt flooded her.

"I'm not sure I can do this," she whispered. "Why don't we go practice somewhere? We can come back in a few weeks when we've perfected it. Or, better yet, I'll teach you the spell. I'll give you my memories; you are so much stronger than I..."

"You are strong enough, Hermione," he murmured, taking her hand in his. She felt the magic growing, and her wand thrumming in her hand, begging her to cast a spell. Her heart began to race and her breath came in rapid pants as the energy grew in her.

"Do it now, Hermione!" Loki ordered, though his voice was strained.

Seemingly of its own accord, she pointed her wand at her parents, keeping a tight hold of Loki's hand. The words she had practiced so many times came tumbling from her lips, but there was something different, something that drew confidence from her. She closed her eyes, forcing her memories to her parents so she could build their minds around them. Her brain forced her mouth to form the words, over and over again, her singsong voice filling the room. Her lungs strained as though she had just run a marathon, and from the sounds Loki was making next to her he was feeling much the same way.

_Just a few more seconds,_ she encouraged herself. _Almost... keep going..._

A flicker of recognition crossed her mother's face. It gave Hermione a sudden burst of motivation and energy, and within seconds both her parents were looking at her in surprise, though there was no doubt that they knew who she was. Panting she dropped his hand, bending over to catch her breath and steady her wobbly body. Another wave of her wand and her parents were no longer bound.

"Hermione!" they cried in unison, standing to embrace her, but a thud drew her attention. She turned to Loki, to find him face-down on the carpet.

"Loki!" she cried.

XXXXXXX

His body ached to the point where the very each act of drawing breath caused a shot of pain. There was the unfamiliar sensation of wanting to fall into a deeper sleep, but he was certainly not on one of the large, luxurious beds of Asgard. He was laying on something narrow, his head propped up on something very uncomfortable. There was something resting on his side, and he could feel something touching his hair, which was resting on his shoulder. Slowly he opened his eyes to find he was laying on the couch in Hermione's parent's living room. Hermione was sitting on the floor, but she had fallen asleep against his chest, the fingers of one hand wound into the ends of his locks, the other hand trying to make some semblance of a pillow under her head. He smiled, reaching up to run his thumb across her face. In that moment, he knew he didn't care if it may be years before he could return to Asgard, as long as he was with her.

His eyes scanned the room, and he noticed her parents occupying two armchairs across from the couch. Her father was eying him suspiciously, taking in every detail of the strange man on his couch, but her mother was staring at one spot- Hermione's hand in his hair. Frigga's words echoed in his head, and he suppressed a chuckle.

"Good morning," he said softly, noticing the morning light coming in the window.

"Morning," her father replied stiffly.

"I suppose introductions are in order."

"David. And this is Melinda," he said, nodding towards his wife.

"Loki," he nodded, neglecting to give them any more information. If they were anything like their daughter his full name would raise the same red flags it had with Hermione.

"Interesting name," his eyes narrowed. "Live up to it, do you?"

He smirked. It was nice to see knowledge being valued by a family. "I suppose you could say that."

"How's the war? Hermione didn't get to tell us much. She asked for something to eat and by the time we got back she was asleep."

"The war with Voldemort is long over. Hermione and her friends were victorious."

"Were you a part of that war?"

"No, though I was aware of it. I will admit it intrigued me, though I was far enough removed from the situation I was unaware of her role in the war until recently."

"Intrigued you? How does something intrigue you, but you stay away? Their fighters were so young; they could have used any help they could get."

"I cannot guarantee that had I fought I would have fought for her side."

"Are you one of those pure-blooded Slytherin supremacists Hermione told us about?"

"No. A person's ancestry is no concern of mine. But I will be willing to admit that, up until recently, I have been quick to align myself with those with power. Voldemort had power. I would have aligned myself until he proved himself no longer useful to me, or until he viewed me as a threat."

"What would happen if he did?"

"I would do what I have been prone to do. Turn on him, take him down, claim his position as my own, then abandon his followers because I would have no desire to continue his blood-purity ploy and as an army they really could not help me, and I would have enjoyed seeing them thrown into chaos."

"So you'd kill him for spite?"

"I'd kill him to prove I could."

"Does Hermione know that side of you?"

"She knows it better than most, perhaps better than myself. And she does not tolerate such talk from me."

"How long did you say you've known each other?"

"I didn't, but it's been around a month."

"How did she get to know you so quickly in such a short time?"

"I wanted her to. I bared everything I am and have been to her. She was too strong-willed to run."

"Why? Why would she stay?"

"She gave me her word. Again, it's only recently I've learned the true depth of that."

"Are you a man of your word, Loki?"

"No... and I suspect your wife can hazard a guess as to why."

David looked at Melinda, who was looking at Loki wide-eyed in a cross of revelation and fear. She looked into his eyes, and he knew she was looking for confirmation. He had laid so many hints; he had little doubt that one of Hermione's parents would connect the dots. They had, after all, been thrown into a world they knew nothing of when their daughter was eleven, and there was no doubt she had told them about the many things that had came with that world; vampires, werewolves, dragons, and the like. Would it be so difficult after that to believe that some of the other stories were true?

His foreign clothing probably didn't help him hide anything.

"The God of Lies," Melinda whispered.

He smiled and gave a nod. "I do not intend to lie to your daughter, and she has, with few exceptions, been able to tell when I am not speaking the truth. I know she will not stand for me spreading falsehoods in front of her. And she means enough for me to try to keep her happy."

Hermione's fingers moved against his hair, just a quarter of an inch. He smiled and put a possessive arm on her back, playing with her hair.

"I know that is no way to introduce oneself to someone's parents, but I cannot change my past overnight, and the best way for me to start proving to Hermione I am going to try to change my ways is being honest with those she cares the most about, and getting what has been quite the awkward conversation out of the way."

They exchanged looks.

"I'm going to make coffee," David said.

"I'll start breakfast," Melinda stood quickly. He nodded to them as they left; no doubt to talk about their daughter's latest choice in relationship.

"Perhaps I should not make another play for the throne," he murmured. "It is not very queen-like behavior to pretend to be asleep to avoid talking to your parents."

"Shut your mouth," she replied, moving so she could look up at him. "I have no desire to be a queen in any realm. I'd spend half my reign trying to disentangle the crown from my hair."

He burst out laughing. "That has to be the most asinine reason I have ever heard for someone not wanting to be royalty."

"I find it very valid. It's hard enough to take care of my hair without putting something ridiculous and easily entwined into it."

"A helmet, then, perhaps?"

"I don't favor giant bloody horns like you do. They look a bit ludicrous."

"Must you be difficult?"

"I must be at least as difficult as the man I am in a relationship with. And that's if I don't make up for your lost time."

"You have quite a lot of destruction to do if you're going that route. Go ahead. I'll wait."

"Still feeling bad?"

"I've felt worse."

"That's not what I asked, Silvertongue."

"I could be feeling horrible. What are you willing to do to make me feel better?"

She smiled sultrily, leaned close to him, and shoved a phial in his hand. "Revival potion," she told him.

He tipped the contents into his mouth and swallowed. Instantly he felt energy course through him. Within a few seconds, he felt well enough to sit up, and he grabbed her around the waist to hoist her up next to him.

"That worked well," he quipped, putting the phial on the coffee table in front of him. "Do you think I've overstayed my welcome?"

"Confessing to my parents so soon after they went through that probably wasn't the kindest thing to do."

"They should know what their daughter is getting herself into so they can thoroughly object."

"Will it change anything if they do?"

His eyebrow rose. "Have you any evidence that I would give up something I want so easily?"

"Sweet talking me like that is only going to get you part of the way out of trouble."

"I gave you a way to get your parents back, are you really going to ask more from me?"

"I will tonight," she whispered, leaning up and kissing him.

"That, my dear, I think I can oblige," he murmured, placing a finger under her chin to lift her lips to meet his in a slow, sensuous kiss.

"Hermione," Melinda said softly, coming in to place two plates of eggs and sausage on the coffee table. "Your father and I, well, we're supposed to be at the clinic in half an hour. We... well, we obviously weren't expecting any of this. We can call our patients and cancel, if you want us to..."

"Oh, no, Mum. I think it would be best for you to go about your day as usual until you and Dad can make a decision at what you want to do. It's not fair for me to ask you to drop everything and move back to resume your old lives, especially when I can visit you so easily here."

She flashed an uneasy smile. "Will you be staying here, then?"

"I really don't want to impose, Mum. As you said, you weren't expecting any of this..."

"You are our daughter, Hermione. We need to have a talk, and a long one at that, but I think it would be best for all of us if we take the day to calm down from the excitement. Though your father and I are thrilled to see you alive and well, so of course we want you to stay with us."

"Sounds good, Mum."

"Loki, you are welcome to stay with us as well. I'd offer you the second guest room, but I sincerely doubt that I could stop the two of you if you want to..." she trailed off, blushing. "This would be so much easier if you had to sneak down the hallway and a loose floorboard could give you away!"

"Mum!" Hermione chuckled.

"I will take the second bedroom, and respect the rules of your home," Loki said, standing.

"Really?" Hermione and Melinda said in unison.

"I am _attempting_ to make a change, my dear," he smirked at Hermione.

"Well, then. How about we take you to dinner tonight?" Melinda asked, her voice brighter.

"I would be honored, Lady Granger," he said, with a small bow.

Melinda blushed again. "Well, I'll see you tonight, then. I'll call later to set things up."

"Sounds good, Mum," Hermione said, bounding into her mother's open arms, then going into the other room to say goodbye to her father. She waited until they pulled out of the driveway to go back into the room with Loki.

"Silver-tongued serpent," she smirked, rolling her eyes.

"I intend to keep my word," he said, picking up the CD player on the bookshelf to examine it.

"You're going to wait until we decide to go back to England?"

"I didn't say that," he said, suddenly advancing on her, and scooping her into his arms. She felt the rush of space around her, and when his foot came down it was in her own bedroom. "I said I was going to respect the rules of _their_ home. Violating the sanctity of _yours, _however..."

"Be my guest," she smiled, biting her lip. He grabbed her face and pulled it to his, crashing his lips hungrily to hers. Strong hands slid up her, tugging her t-shirt up and over her head, and dropping it unceremoniously behind her. One of his arms slid behind her, pressing her into him, as the other came to massage her breast through her bra. Having no idea how to rid him of his Asgardian outfit Hermione contented herself by reaching behind her back to unclasp the bra then wiggle out of it. She knew there would be no quips about her impatience that night, he was just as impatient as she, and he showed it by pushing against the wall, already nude.

"That is quite the useful trick," she said, seeing his outfit draped carefully over a chair. "I have a similar one," she said, drawing her wand out of her jeans and tapping her remaining clothes, vanishing them.

"That is not a trick I hope to use often. I usually prefer taking my time..."

"But this is different, so why waste time talking?" she asked, pulling him to her to kiss him again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her. His hand slipped between them to position himself, and he pushed himself into her as she purred in satisfaction. He pushed her hands over her head, and held them there with one of his own as his other hand slid behind her, pressing against her back, lifting her slightly away from the wall and allowing him to drive deeper into her. He kissed and nipped her neck with no care as to leaving marks.

"This is what you want, Hermione?" he growled, moving more incessantly against her. "Me, here, giving you whatever you desire?"

"Yes," she groaned, feeling his hand slide over her side and up her stomach.

"Say it," he demanded.

"Want you, Loki," she hissed as he rolled her nipple and bit her shoulder.

"Say it!"

"I'm yours, Loki!" she shouted.

"Hearing my name on your lips is intoxicating," he chuckled, letting her arms free, so he could hold her back with one hand and continue playing with her breasts with the other. She wrapped her arms around him, raking her fingers against his skin as he hissed in pleasure. She thrust herself forward to catch his lips, and he overpowered her, holding her to him with fingers wound in her hair, his other hand sliding between them to press into her nub. She moaned into his mouth and rolled her hips against his, driving him even further inside him. With no warning she clamped around him as she released, her whole body tightening against his as he furrowed his brow, wanting to feel every second of her orgasm. As soon as she relaxed he pushed harder into her, losing himself inside her with a final hiss against the skin of her neck. One of his hands pressed against her back, holding her to him as they both started to come down, and when he felt sure enough of himself he slid from her, then lowered them both to the floor, collapsing against the wall himself.

"Need I ask if this is the last I'm going to see of you this time?" she asked after a moment.

"I would not dare leave you again. I don't think I'd be safe on either of our realms if I did," he chuckled. "Mother has grown quite fond of you."

"One finds it's a lot easier to impress someone's parents if their reputation isn't so legendary it's been written about for hundreds of years."

"You'll get there, though I daresay history will be more kind to you."

"It's never too late," she smiled.

"I may be able to find some motivation."

Her eyes flicked to the clock. "We have a couple hours before Mum is going to call. How about I motivate you in the shower?"

"Lead the way, my love."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

They spent the weekend with her parents, and Hermione and Loki didn't take any more side trips, though she did invite herself into his room to sleep in his arms. They returned to her apartment after dinner on Sunday, with promises to visit again soon to discuss her parents' future. After they spent a couple hours together to make up for their two-day break Hermione went to go take a shower, and Loki took the time to explore the apartment and start brewing her some coffee. As he set her cup on the coffee table he saw the autobiography that had been set there, and he picked it up fondly. But it was the binder underneath that drew his attention.

When Hermione emerged from the bedroom twenty minutes later wrapped in a robe with her hair still damp she found Loki sitting on the couch, studying the binder.

"What is this?" he asked, looking up at her, but not moving the binder.

"A job offer," she replied quietly, coming over to sit next to him.

"Did you accept?"

"No, not yet. I was leaning that way, but then you came back, and I can't accept anything without discussing it with you."

A look of surprise crossed his face. "I'm not in charge of your life, Hermione. If there is a job you would like to accept..."

"There may be a conflict of interest being with you and working for Shield at the same time," she smiled, pulling the binder from his hands and swinging a leg over his so she was sitting astride his lap.

"Because it would be bad form to be trying to fight enemies while involved with a 'known threat'?"

"I know you're not a threat, but you have to admit sending the Destroyer down, wrecking several government cars and a good portion of a town probably did not endear you to everyone," she murmured, kissing his neck behind his ear.

"Did they just come to you one day and offer a position?" he asked, resolve clearly cracking, but still determined to have the conversation.

"No," she shook her head before kissing him lightly. "They wanted to know what we had been doing together in Las Vegas."

"What did you tell them?"

"Not nearly everything," she smirked, fingers working on the buttons of his shirt and pushing it off his chest.

"But you did tell them some things," he said, forcing himself to place his hands on her shoulders and gently push her away from him.

"I was extremely vague. I said you had something to do regarding your realm, I went and helped you do what you needed, and you were currently in Asgard with no plans to return."

"Is this something you want to do?"

She studied him. "If the conflict of interest is too much for them, I have made my choice."

"If you turn them down in favor of me, you will find yourself on that threat list alongside me."

"They won't find me if I hide in the magical world."

"Is that what you want?" he sounded unsure. "To run and keep hidden for fear of capture?"

"It is what I would do if I must," she shrugged. "It's not like I don't have experience."

"You should not have to live in fear on my account."

She kissed him again. "I will not live in fear. I will call them tomorrow and turn them down, and they won't be any the wiser."

His eyes darkened. "You are a fool if you think that would stop their interest in you."

"Don't, Loki. Don't start thinking that our relationship is a bad idea. I'll talk to Harry, and Arthur Weasley, let them know the situation, and make sure they know if they haven't heard from me in a couple days to come find me, and get the Ministry involved if I'm gone."

"But..."

"You once said you'll protect me. Does the offer still stand?"

"Of course," he said, as though the answer should have gone without saying.

"Then I don't think this will be as big a deal as you're making it out to be. If anything they should be thrilled to know I'm involved with you, because they know I don't have plans for world domination and won't let you attack anything anytime soon."

"You're assuming they think you're the one with the power in this."

"Aren't I?" she smirked, kissing him again.

"Just promise me that if there's any indication that they think you're a threat you'll let me take you to Asgard for your protection."

"I'll agree to that," she nodded.

"Good," he smiled, sliding his hands under the robe and pulling her down to him, but they were quickly interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Were you expecting someone?" he asked, looking at the door.

"No, and if it were any of my friends they'd be barging in through the Floo," she said, sliding off him and hurrying to the door. She looked through the peephole and gasped.

"It's Agent Coulson!" she whispered.

"I shouldn't be here," he said, standing.

"No. Stay there. He's going to find out either way, and I'd rather it be when we can defend ourselves." Before he can put up an objection she made sure the robe covered her and opened the door.

"A phone call in advance would have been appreciated," she said.

He pushed past her, not looking up from his phone as he typed something out on the screen. "Sorry, Miss Granger, but we have something we'd like you to look at, and don't want to wait any longer for your..." he stopped when he realized Hermione wasn't home alone, his mouth opening in surprise as he saw Loki standing by the couch.

"You told me he wasn't planning on returning," he turned, looking at Hermione.

"He didn't, at the time. But now he's here," she shrugged.

He looked from Loki's open shirt to Hermione's lopsided robe. "You know this changes things, don't you?" he looked her in the eye.

"It should change everything," she snapped. "You have the golden opportunity to take a 'known threat' and make him an ally."

"And, what, forgive what he's done in the past?"

"How much damage did Tony Stark do in Los Angeles last week?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Touche. Loki, if you want to join us we'll be happy to have you, though you're staying away from what we would like Hermione to look at, at least until you've proven yourself trustworthy. You'd probably do better in defense, anyway. Tell us our weak points."

"I'll consider it," Loki answered coldly.

"We're kind of in a time crunch."

"Is what you want Hermione to observe going anywhere in the next few days?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, no, but..."

"Then you shall have our answer tomorrow. Good day," he said, nodding him towards the door.

Agent Coulson looked at Hermione for backup, but she jerked a thumb towards the door. "Meet us in the lobby tomorrow morning at eight. Don't come to my flat unannounced again."

He threw his arms up in frustration. "If you're not there at eight, I'll be up here at one after. Consider that your announcement," he called over his shoulder as he left, closing the door behind him.

"I am not going to enjoy working with him," Loki murmured.

"But you are going to work with him?" Hermione asked, eyebrow cocked.

"You are, so I guess I am as well. At least for a while. Until you're ready to join me on Asgard."

She smiled, moving towards him. "Are you going to move between the two for a while?"

"I do have duties to attend to there. Perhaps I'll bring my brother for an occasional visit," he said, wrapping his arms around her.

"You noticed Dr. Foster works for them, did you?"

"Perhaps," he smirked.

"Just try to behave. The last thing I need is for you to get into a fight with some of those supposed super-heroes over there."

"I make no promises."

"I wouldn't believe them if you did," she smiled, standing on tip-toe to kiss him.

"Would you believe me if I were to say I think I may have found the woman who makes me pool?" he murmured against her lips.

"I could be convinced," she smirked, kissing him again as her robe fluttered to the floor.


End file.
